


The Way Divided

by Moon_Disc



Series: The Paradox Principle [3]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Major Character Injury, Post-Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Disc/pseuds/Moon_Disc
Summary: Avon is dead. Or so everything thinks. Jenna is a traitor. Or so everything thinks. The crew of Scorpio are scattered and the rebels are turning on their own. Servalan stands poised to regain control of the Federation and nothing stands in her way. Or does Blake's rabble have one last card to play?The Sequel to 'The Lazarus Directive'
Series: The Paradox Principle [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1355215
Comments: 31
Kudos: 26





	1. Departure

**Author's Note:**

> Where were we? Avon is in the hands of the Terra Nostra while a lookalike has been turned into a mutoid, Dayna and Tarrant are after Servalan, Vila and Soolin are hunting for Avon, and Avalon has got Blake, who stabbed Jenna after calling her a traitor. Meanwhile, Servalan is poised to regain control of the Federation with the help of Orac, who has shown her a prediction of her future. Where do we go from here? Let's find out!

**Chapter One**

“Wake up.”

Beneath a bundle of blankets, Vila yawned and opened his eyes. Light threaded through the close weave and invaded his cosy sanctum. At the end of the mattress, someone was slapping his bare ankle, the only bit of him free of the swaddling bedclothes. On his cold skin, the hand was warm, its owner having only recently vacated the bed. A cooling indentation beside him was a reminder of where she had been.

He threw the blanket off his head and grinned lazily across at her. “Morning.”

Soolin, loosely draped in a dark blue robe, brushed hair flowing down her back, looked unimpressed. “It must be somewhere in the universe. Here, it’s getting late.”

There was a time he would have taken such a rebuke to heart. After last night and numerous other nights before that, he had grown accustomed to the little remarks that followed their love-making. Intimacy was permitted only on Soolin’s terms, and the next morning always followed with a reminder that this was nothing more than an arrangement of convenience. Vila was not about to argue. Whatever she wanted was all right with him. 

What Soolin wanted had been made clear from the start of their association. When she wanted company, Vila made himself scarce. He never met them. They were never permitted to linger or ever mentioned again. He supposed the arrangement would be reciprocated, if the occasion ever presented itself. As it never did, he was pleasantly surprised when one night, far from the nearest planet, when they had tired of galactic monopoly, Soolin had taken his hand and taken him to her bed. 

After that, just occasionally, when the mood took her, he was happy to oblige. Like last night, with the ship landed on a desert moon in Sector Seven, millions of spacials from any other human beings, she had got that look in her eye and Vila had followed. He knew the rules and kept to them. But last night had felt different. She had kissed him, something she never allowed as a rule, and permitted him to kiss her back. He had played along. Whatever had caused this change, he was not complaining.

Letting him sleep late had been another change for the better. It suggested possibilities.

“Not a bad night, was it?” he said, propping himself up on his elbow.

She gave him a sideways glance. “It got better.”

That was all he was going to get. Still, there was no harm in trying. He rubbed his foot playfully along her bare thigh. “Practice makes perfect, you know.”

His hopes were dashed. “Get up,” she said, rising. The material rippled around her body, denying him the view. “I need help with ‘Thing’.”

Vila sighed. ‘Thing’ was the name she used for their travelling companion, a mutoid whose name had once been Kerr Avon. After a year of searching and following leads that led nowhere, they had finally found him on a backwater planet in Sector Seven. He had been given a basic programming, all that was necessary to cope with the demands of ferrying visiting dignitaries to and from an abandoned research station that had found a new life as a pleasure palace.

Soolin had wanted to kill him straight away, but Vila had argued that he deserved a chance. He had been working with him, trying to ignite any spark of his former life. After a month, he kept telling himself he was making progress. Truth was, he was making no difference at all. Soolin meanwhile kept her distance. She never used his name and had insisted he was locked up at night. 

She also refused to have anything to do with his feeding. Vila had decided that was a good thing, because the serum Avon needed was expensive and hard to obtain. With supplies running low, Vila had started supplementing the dose with his own blood. He had not told Soolin. She would not have understood.

“Where is he?” he asked, rolling from the bed.

“Outside,” Soolin called from the other room.

“You’ve got him working?”

“No. He’s out there all by himself.”

That sounded promising. Avon did nothing unless he was ordered. The breakthrough he had been waiting for might have finally happened. 

Vila threw on his clothes and ran to the open hatch. Avon’s black-clad form was lying flat on the ground at the base of the ship’s steps, arms by his side and his eyes closed. Vila stood staring at him, trying to make sense of what he was doing. A light breeze drifted across the barren surface, coating Avon with a dusting of sand and lifting the blond hair on his forehead to reveal a small hole with green scorched edges visible above the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, Soolin, you didn’t,” Vila cried out. He stumbled down the steps and knelt at Avon’s side. His fingers were trembling as he checked the cold neck for a pulse. Nothing, as he knew there would be. He sat back, staring down at the bloodless face. “Why?” he said, hearing Soolin’s approach on the metal steps. “He was getting better.”

“No, he wasn’t,” she retorted. “Avon died a long time ago, Vila. His body didn’t know it, that’s all.”

He turned an unhappy face towards her. “You didn’t give him a chance!”

“One hour or one month wasn’t going to make a difference. Besides, we can’t afford to keep feeding him.” She folded her arms. “You were giving him your blood, weren’t you?”

Since she knew, there was no point in denying it now. “Yes,” he admitted miserably. “How did you find out?”

“We should have run out of serum days ago. I was waiting for him to grind to a halt.”

“I couldn’t let him starve, Soolin.”

“It’s sick, Vila. He’s not a pet. You had him performing tricks like a circus animal. Do you seriously believe Avon would have wanted to live like this? I should have killed him when we first found him.”

It sounded to Vila like she had been planning this for a while. “Is that what last night was about?”

She gave a light shrug. “I needed you out of the way for a while. It was either that or drugging you.”

“I would have preferred the drugs,” he grumbled.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

He offered her a conciliatory smile. “No, I wouldn’t.” 

“Face it, Vila, it’s over. Now, bury him. It’s time we left.”

There was nothing more to say. It was done and Avon was gone. Vila went to fetch a shovel.

He buried Avon where he lay, deep enough to avoid attracting the attention of scavengers, and unmarked. He patted the surface flat and took a moment to imprint the image on his memory. When the ship took off, the sand would scatter across the grave and all trace of him would be gone. Someone should remember, Vila thought. In the absence of anyone else, he would have to do.

He trudged inside. Pausing to look back over the expanse with the glow from the twin suns scattering the sand with diamond light, he caught his mind turning to the future. It had been quite a year. Finding Avon had been all-consuming. Now that was done, where did they go from here, if they went anywhere at all? Soolin would probably want to set out on her own. There would be plenty of call for someone with her skill. For Vila, less so. Necessity had driven people to do what once for him had been an art. In a world of thieves, he was going to struggle. Suddenly he felt old. And he had woken up feeling so good too. The day was unravelling by the minute.

He knew things were about to get worse when he saw Soolin’s face. 

“Vila, you should see this,” she said, gesturing to the screen. 

A Federation vis-cast was playing, announcing the capture of a rebel command centre on Kaliferon. Vila slid into the seat, his mouth falling open, as the report continued, detailing the discovery of blood in one of the caverns, which had been identified as belonging to Jenna Stannis. Avalon was claiming responsibility for the execution, which had been carried out by Blake himself.

Vila read it again, not understanding what he was seeing. Numb, he barely registered the glass being forced into his hand. He caught the smell of something vaguely alcoholic and pushed it aside.

“Drink it, just this once,” said Soolin, lifting his hand to his lips. “It’s medicinal.”

He swallowed it in one. It did nothing to ease the shock. “Not Jenna,” he breathed. “Blake wouldn’t.”

“Apparently he did. If you believe it.”

“Why would Avalon lie? Why wouldn’t Blake deny it?” A terrifying thought set him up on his feet. “Avon, Cally, Gan, Jenna - I'm the only one left! He’ll be coming for me next!”

Soolin shook her head and pushed him back down onto the chair. “No, he isn’t. Jenna went looking for him. You know what they were saying about her.” She put her hands on his shoulders and began to slowly knead away his tension. “Besides, if he does come, he’ll have to go through me first.”

“You mean that?”

"You have your uses. Keep practising.” She released him with a final pat. "Come on, let's go. Someone has to do some work around here if you want to eat."

"Practice later?"

She smiled. "We'll see, Vila. We'll see."


	2. Pursuit

**Chapter Two**

“The ship is now registering on short-range detectors. A directive is required.”

At the helm, Jenna stirred. The computer had been trying to attract her attention for the last ten minutes or so. Forcing her eyes open, she squinted at the chronometer. No, she had been wrong. Maxim had been calling her for the last forty minutes.

Damn, she thought. She had only shut her eyes for a moment and time had slipped away.

“Who is it, Maxim?” she asked, sitting up. The buttons on the console had left imprints on her arms that throbbed as the blood started to come back.

The ship’s computer, standard on these old Albatross wanderers, had a flat monotone voice that suggested boredom. If she had to guess, Maxim was tired of travel, tired of pilots who paid no attention to what he had to say, and tired of his existence. He gave the impression of someone denied a decent retirement and all the more bitter for it.

“No information is available,” Maxim stated.

Jenna tried to focus her eyes on the screen. The incoming ship was a blur.

“What is it, Zen?” Silence. The computer was sulking. She cursed under her breath. It was becoming harder to concentrate by the minute. Past and present was becoming confused. “What is it, _Maxim_?” she tried again.

“Federation Pursuit ship, Starburst Class.”

“That’s impossible. The Federation has stopped patrols in this sector. Are they on an intercept course?”

“Confirmed.”

Anywhere else, the approach of another vessel, particularly coming to the aid of a crippled ship, would be welcome. Out here in the wastelands of the Federation’s former borders, it meant trouble. The only ships out here were raiders targetting the desperate who tried to make run for the Outer Worlds. They had had rich pickings lately. With the Federation withdrawing, lawless planets were falling prey to the twin evils of starvation and disease. 

Those who could command a ship were fleeing; when they got this far, the pirates were waiting to steal their possessions and sell the passengers to the highest bidders. Recently, the brigands had been joined by amateurs, who, seeking to capitalise on the bounty, had no idea what they were doing and destroyed more ships than they captured.

It had been amateurs pursuing her for the last sixty hours. Maxim had a limited number of options when it came to evasion strategies, so that she had had to keep the ship on manual control, napping when she could, but mostly staying awake. The strain was telling; the last attack had damaged the ship and more by luck than judgement, she had managed to limp away before they could press home their advantage. Unlike the _Liberator_ , her ship had no auto-repair circuits, and putting out a distress call was suicide. The repairs needed her attention. But she was exhausted and, like the ship, failing.

The universe was a very lonely place for the dead. She had heard the reports, how Blake had killed her, the traitor in his midst. It had nearly been true. When she had awoken in the chill of the cave, everyone was long gone. Weak from blood loss and badly injured, she had lived every agonising minute it had taken to get back to her ship, inch by inch, in the dark, feeling her way along and listening out for the tell-tales signs of an approach by people or subterranean creatures. 

She was long gone by the time the Federation arrived. That had been only the start of her problems.

Back on the _Liberator_ , the wound to her stomach would have been healed in a matter of minutes. Even with the Federation’s lesser technology, an hour in a life support capsule would have done the job. In these days of want, when desperate people were swapping anything and everything they had in exchange for food, medical equipment was in precious short supply. They had resorted instead to old-fashioned methods for treatment: antibiotics and antivirals, targetted at particular pathogens without the broad-spectrum approach of more advanced practices.

She had had enough for five days of treatment. She had patched herself up and hoped for the best. When the pills ran out, she convinced herself they had worked. When the pain started, she told herself she was healing. When fever-induced sweats soaked her clothes and the inflammation started to spread, she knew she had to get help. With precious little of that in Federation territory, she had turned her ship towards the border and the frontier worlds and tried to run the gauntlet.

She was almost through. And now this.

“Maxim,” she ordered, “try contacting them.”

Communications were refused. Had they been Federation, they would have had the decency to give her a warning before they destroyed her ship. That mean the approaching ship had been commandeered by amateurs. 

“Power reserves?”

“Fifteen per cent,” said the computer.

Too little to keep up a prolonged chase. If she ran now, they would follow, try to disable her ship and end up destroying it in the process. Even if she survived that, what would fate would they have in store for her, ill as she was? They would give her no treatment, even if they had any to spare.

Another strategy had to be found.

“Maxim, full stop,” she said. “We’re going to offer no resistance. Let them come aboard.”

Maxim, in his usual worn manner, stated that the approaching ship was already matching vectors in preparation for boarding. Jenna got up, staggered and tried to stay upright.

“Maxim, compensate for lateral drift,” she commanded. 

“Unable to comply. Lateral drift has not been detected.”

Damn, thought Jenna, then it’s me. To her eyes, the world was set at an angle and the floor was slowly rising to meet her. She landed hard on her injured side, crying out from the pain of it. She lay there, waiting for someone to come. End of the shift, she caught herself thinking. Was it Avon’s turn to take over or Cally’s? No, she had to remind herself, they would not be coming, because this was not the _Liberator_ , there was no Avon, no Cally, no Blake. No one was coming, except the raiders intent on stripping her ship and making her their captive.

She levered herself up, holding her side. Several days ago, the wound had started to weep a milky-white liquid. The stain on her clothes had now taken on a yellow hue. Safety and medical attention lay another ten hours away. So close, she told herself, keeping going.

“A transfer tube has been engaged,” Maxim announced.

Dull clangs on the outer hull warned that they were about to enter. Jenna dragged herself over to the door and ordered Maxim to lock it. She sat there, trying to hold her breath to catch the slightest sound from the ship’s interior. A rattle and the bang of metal hitting metal told that they were starting to search the ship.

“Maxim,” she called out. “Initiate the fire protocol.”

“Unable to comply.”

She had expected opposition. The usual procedure for dealing with a fire onboard meant pumping out the oxygen from the atmosphere to starve it. For anyone trapped in the room at the time, it meant suffocation.

“Override,” said Jenna.

“Unable to comply,” Maxim repeated. “Lifeforms have been detected in the area.”

Those lifeforms suddenly started an assault on the cockpit door. Jenna shied away and pressed herself into the corner. The thudding became louder and married with the sound of weapon fire.

“Override now!” she yelled. “Authority, Stannis One.”

“Confirmed,” said Maxim patiently.

There was a faint susurration from beyond the door, like the sound of wind in tall grasses. The hammering stopped as abruptly as it had started. She waited in the silence that followed, listening intently for any sign of life.

“Confirm the status of lifeforms outside the cockpit,” Jenna stated.

“No lifeforms have been detected,” said Maxim.

“Thank you, Zen.” She checked herself. “I mean, Maxim.” She forced herself up, clinging to the metal panelling with sweaty fingers to gain some leverage. “Maxim, disengage with the other vessel.”

There would time to deal with the bodies later. For now, she had to get moving.

“Transfer tube disengaged,” Maxim informed her. “Detectors report three Federation pursuit ships approaching in attack formation.”

Her heart sank. The first had been an exploratory craft while the others waited, hidden from her by their detector shields.

“Range?” she asked.

“Five hundred spacials and closing.” 

It was over. “Forward vision, Maxim.”

There they were, coming in fast. There would be retaliation for the loss of the crew of the first ship. There were worse ways to go, she reflected. Cally had been wrong. Dying alone and silent was preferable to being alive and a prisoner in their hands.

She inched her way over to the pilot’s chair and eased herself into it. Her side ached and her vision swam.

“Two plasma bolts launched and running,” Maxim announced. “Evasion course recommended.”

“Yes, I know,” she said with difficulty. “Zen, lower the force wall.”

“Evasion course recommended,” came the weary reply.

“Lower the force wall, damn it!”

The plasma bolts impacted. The ship bucked under the assault. Jenna was thrown from her chair across the cramped cabin. A flurry of sparks rained down on her head and the smell of her own hair scorching filled the air.

“Failure of the force wall is imminent,” Maxim said patiently in the midst of the chaos erupting around him. “Systems failure has been detected on life support and gravity. Further instruction is now required.”

“Let it happen,” she said.

One more plasma bolt should do it. She waited for it to come, watching the forward screen for that moment when the bolt came screaming towards her, bringing with it oblivion. This close to the end, a strange sort of calmness was sweeping over her. This was always how she imagined it would be; space was unforgiving and those who set their face against it inevitably came to this, even the best of them. Her only regret was Blake. That he had been willing to accept what Avalon said and set apart all the times she had stood at his side and supported him, that was the true betrayal. Now it could never be made right.

She waited and watched, only to see the three ships suddenly break off the attack and veer away. The cause rolled into view: a Federation prison transporter of high-security specification, used for the most serious offenders. Inferior forces had given way to an apex predator.

“Maxim, identify.”

“The manifest lists seventy-nine individuals, including crew.”

“Disregard the crew. Status of the prisoners.”

“Crimos.”

Intelligent, murdering, insane, butchering, blood-thirsty psychopaths.

This was worse. This was terrifying.

“How many lifeforms aboard?”

“Detectors are not functioning,” Maxim informed her.

However many there were, they were not coming to her assistance. They were looking for victims.

“The ship is matching vectors.”

“Maxim.” Her voice was trembling as she gave the command. No way out, but one. “Commence self-destruct sequence.”

“Authority is required.”

“Stannis, Alpha One. Confirm.”

“Confirmed. Self-destruct sequence commenced. Termination will follow in one minute.”

She hauled herself back into her seat and sat listening to the countdown, head in hands. At twenty seconds, Maxim reported that the crimo ship had began the docking procedure. At ten seconds, Maxim began to count the final moments of her life.

“Ten.”

Almost there. 

“Nine.”

Thuds in the distance as the other ship attached itself to the hull.

“Eight.”

Let them get as close as possible, she thought, and take as many as she could with her.

“Seven.”

She lifted her head and fixed her gaze on a distant nebula, lit with pink and purple. For sights like this, it had been worth every minute. Another few seconds and her atoms would mingle with the dust that had seen galaxies born and stars die. It was immortality of a kind.

“Destruct sequence has been stopped.”

“What?” She struggled to make sense of Maxim’s words. “Restart, now!”

“Unable to comply. The original order has been countermanded by an override sequence.”

“From where?”

“The prison transporter. The docking procedure is complete. The airlock has been compromised.”

“Lifeforms?”

“The detectors are not functioning.”

She forced herself up. The thought of being taken alive was unimaginable.

“Door open,” she ordered. The buckled metal screeched back. She gathered up the weapon she kept under the pilot’s seat and crept to the side of the door. When they entered, she would shoot them and they would shoot her. And it would be over.

Sounds of footsteps came through the quickening rasping of her breathing. Cold sweat trickled down the side of her face. She tightened her grip on the gun. Not for much longer, she told herself.

The intruder was drawing closer. She heard him pad to the door of the cockpit, pause and then pass on. She froze, hardly daring to breathe.

Then an arm came round the wall and a muzzle was pressed into her temple. “Drop it,” a voice ordered. The arm was joined by the rest of him, easing from behind her into view. A black jumpsuit, blast armour, a black breathing mask concealing his face and a balaclava revealing only his piercing brown eyes. “I said, drop it!”

Her heart was pounding. Jenna started to raise the weapon. The only way out, she told herself. 

He smacked it from her hand. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “Come with me.”

She was rigid. Death would not come easy unless she gave him a reason to let her live. “I’m... I’m a good pilot,” she ventured. The words threatened to strangle her. “Wherever you want to go, I can get you there.”

His stance relaxed slightly. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”

Then pulling off his face mask, he let her see him fully for the first time and Jenna found herself staring into the face of a dead man.


	3. Resurrection

**Chapter Three**

His exposed cheek was an irresistible target. She meant to hit him. Instead, her aim went wild when the mere act of raising her arm caused pain to ripple up her side. Avon stepped easily back out of reach as she crumpled and grabbed at the wall for support. He left her there, to slide down and end up at his feet.

“Get up,” he said, unmoved. He still had his gun on her.

“Damn it, Avon,” she hissed between gritted teeth. She clutched at her side, willing the pain to subside. “Why can’t you stay dead like a normal human being!”

“I could say the same about you.”

It took sweat, tears and, she was sure, a few spots of fresh blood to get herself up from the floor. He did not offer to help. She forced herself upright and faced him.

“What are you?” she demanded.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I saw them butcher you and turn you into a mutoid! You died.”

His eyes narrowed. “You were there?”

“Servalan sent us a vis-tape. I watched you die.”

“You _watched_ someone die, Jenna. Whether that person was Kerr Avon is debatable.”

It seemed a strange time to be indulging in semantics. “Who are you then?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He removed his balaclava and rubbed a hand through his hair. In the half light, Jenna wondered if she was imagining the odd hint of grey she glimpsed amongst the darker brown. For someone who valued himself so highly, to find him looking less than groomed with day-old stubble on his chin was disconcerting. However bad things got, Avon could usually be relied upon to put in a decent appearance. Her abiding memory of him had been one of neatness and precision, like the computers with which he found common ground. This incarnation, ragged around the edges and more aged than memory would allow, was Avon with the soul torn out of him.

“So, you’re a crimo now, are you?” she said.

“No.” There was no reaction from him. Nothing stirred behind his eyes. “They took my ship, I took theirs. It seemed only fair. The clothes I borrowed. They weren’t needing them.”

“You killed them.”

“There were only five.” He glanced at the four bodies scattered around the hold. “You didn’t do so badly yourself.”

“I had no choice.”

He took a step closer. “There’s always a choice, Jenna. I made one just now when I stopped the self-destruct sequence. I decided to let you live.”

His proximity was disturbing. Not because of who he was, but because of what he might have become. She had the urge to reach out and rip away his chest panel to see if his clothes concealed the modification. The last she had seen of him was in images to fuel a lifetime of nightmares. Yet here he was, the last place she ever expected to see a familiar face again. Either he was mad or she was.

“You died,” she breathed. “You can’t be here.”

“You would have preferred the crimos?”

She shook her head. A cold sweat was beading on her face and trickling down her forehead. Dizzy and sick, this was no time to be indulging in their old verbal sparring.

“What do you want?” she said with difficulty. 

“What you offered,” he returned. “A good pilot, to take me wherever I want to go.”

His gaze ranged over her. Suddenly self-conscious, she wondered what he was seeing. The same as she had seen in him perhaps: illness, pain and defeat.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

“I’ll manage.”

“You’ll have to. I’m not carrying you. Have you got any supplies?”

“Nothing worth risking our lives for.”

“Then come on.” He started away. When she was slow to follow, he rounded on her. “Walk or crawl, if you’re not off this ship by the time I’m ready to leave, then you stay, Jenna.”

She knew he meant it. She let him get ahead before gritting her teeth and steeling herself for the trek to the airlock. A matter of minutes on a good day; today, this was going to take longer. 

Relinquishing her hold on the wall, she took her first tentative step, felt a stab of pain and forced down the overwhelming desire to throw up. She had to keep moving. Avon was gone and the ship was dying fast around her. Cracks were running through the inner panelling and white sealing gel was oozing through the gaps. Several times she thought she felt her feet leave the floor as the artificial gravity began to fail. Beneath her fingers, metal struts felt hot in places, fuelled by elements damaged by fire and failing from the last attack.

A few steps more, she told herself, with the airlock in sight. Then her foot snagged on a fractured spar and she went down. She lay there, gasping for breath in a thinning atmosphere, dazed by lack of oxygen and wearied by fever. A fissure slowly began to tear apart the ceiling above. Gel splattered down, creating a burning halo that ate into the floor around her feet and crept closer. Leakage from one of the plasma drives had turned the mix corrosive. In desperation, she kicked away from the bubbling floor and dragged herself backwards into the transfer tunnel. 

She hoped Avon was not watching. Her humiliation would be complete.

As soon as she was across the threshold of his ship, she reached up and closed the airlock door. Air hissed and the door was sealed. The dulls thuds that followed soon after told her that they were on the move. Where next, she wondered. Wherever that might be, she was going to need treatment if she was going to make it.

If her memory was accurate, the crew and service quarters were located towards the rear of the ship, standard on these old transporters. She pushed herself off the floor and started unsteadily down the long ill-lit corridor. Tell-tale smears of blood and blast marks on the walls warned her of what was to come. Whatever had happened here had been violent and bloody.

The stench of death was noticeable long before she started stepping over the bodies. Open doors revealed that the interiors had been ransacked and their occupants dealt with in typically brutal fashion. She kept going, pressing her hand over her nose and mouth to keep the smell at bay. Up ahead, shards from broken glasses littered the floor and metal pots rolled lazily from the galley door propelled by the gentle movement of the ship. She glanced inside and gagged. The hand that came to rest on her shoulder made her heart skip a beat.

“What happened here?” she asked, tearing her eyes from the scene of slaughter within.

“The food ran out,” Avon said. At his touch, the door closed and locked away the dead forever. “There was a riot and the prisoners gained control of the ship. Then the killing began. First the crew, then each other. Once their basic needs were met, they went in search of entertainment. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.”

She swallowed hard. “Is the rest of the ship like this?”

“Most of the prisoners were ejected into space. As the numbers dwindled, those that survived had other concerns.”

“Like picking off ships fleeing Federation space.”

He made a vague noise of agreement. “I was chasing rather than fleeing, but the result was the same.”

“Unfortunate,” said Jenna.

“It was for them,” Avon returned. “Your injuries need attention. Come on.”

She trailed behind him, using the wall as a crutch. “It’s just you?”

“It is now. Why do you think I need you?”

“There are easier ships.”

He turned and flashed a smile that did not reach his eyes. “But none safer. People tend to leave a ship like this alone.”

“I noticed.” She made it to where he was standing. The stark glow of the overhead strip lighting cut his features into a hectic chiaroscuro that made him appear fleshless. “You could have told me it was you, Avon.”

“Would you have believed it?”

“Probably not,” she conceded. “I still don’t.”

“Then there was nothing to be gained. I wanted the element of surprise.” He certainly had that, she thought. “The last time I saw you, Jenna,” he continued, “you had a gun to my head.”

She wondered when he was going to bring that up. Well, he was making her pay for it now. “You can’t blame me for being consistent,” she said.

“It’s one of your better qualities.” There was that smile again, lifting the corners of his mouth. “Did Vila survive?”

Jenna nodded. “He and Soolin went looking for you,” she said accusingly.

“Did they find me?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t stayed in contact.”

“A pity. Vila’s skills might have come in useful.”

“For what?”

“I am going back to Earth. I need you to get me there. That is the only reason I came for you.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.” She remained where she was, struck by a new awareness of how heavy her limbs were, how exhausted she was and how galling it would be to end up at his feet a second time. “Why didn’t you believe that I was dead on Kalliferon?”

His response was immediate. “Blake would not have harmed you.”

“He stabbed me, Avon. He left me to die.”

Her tone of voice was rising, betraying her distress. That would never do, she told herself. Avon would be enjoying this. The only thing worse would be his telling her that he had told her so. Instead, his response was unexpected.

“He saved your life.”

Jenna gave him a sharp look. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“You would have preferred your chances against Avalon’s firing squad?” He gave her a cursory glance. “Blake is right-handed. You would have been facing him, reaching up with your arms around his neck.” Jenna gave a small nod. She hoped she was not as predictable as Avon made her sound. “Then he must have stabbed you on the left side, low down. Am I right?”

Trying to rationalise his accuracy, the obvious conclusion was that he had seen her favouring her wound, unconsciously betraying its location.

“It’s where I would have chosen,” Avon explained. “The major organs are located above the navel. He gave you a chance. Avalon would have certainly killed you.”

“He could have stopped her.”

“She’s Terra Nostra.”

Jenna stared at him, stunned.

“Has been for some time, from the start probably,” Avon said. His gaze retreated to some dark, distant place. “I’ve had a long time to think about it. The deal she made with the Terra Nostra for me, the drugs they gave her to carry out the Lazarus Directive: none of this struck you as strange?”

“She wanted Blake. We all have to make compromises when necessary.” 

Her attempt at suggesting it applied as much to her own current situation as Avalon’s was lost on him.

“Oh, come on, Jenna,” Avon retorted impatiently. “Why do you think she hates you? They need to control Blake. You are the only person left who has a chance of ever changing his mind. She had to get rid of you – and settle their account at the same time. You were wrong about it not being personal. The Terra Nostra do hold grudges, for a very long time.” He paused, catching his breath. “Based on his actions, I would say Blake knows that. He was not trying to kill you.”

“He almost did,” Jenna countered.

“Almost doesn’t count. He was not to know your supply situation. I’m assuming that is how you ended up in this state. That being the case,” he said meaningfully, “are you going to admit you need help?”

Never, she thought defiantly. Under his gaze, she forced her legs to move. Her knees promptly buckled. Avon was there to catch her and keep her on her feet.

“All right,” she relented. “I need help.”

She took his offered arm and held onto him as he started down the corridor, slowing his pace to allow for every painful limp. This close to him, the arm beneath the material felt bony. He had his own problems, she decided.

“Why,” she asked, wincing as they progressed, “are you making excuses for Blake?”

“You are the last person he would kill, Jenna. The only way it makes sense is if he was protecting you. As he was programmed to do.”

She stopped abruptly. “What?”

“I had a long talk with the chairman of the Terra Nostra.”

“Vos? He must be ancient by now.”

“You’d never know it to look at him.” He started walking again, dragging her along with him. “He told me they have perfected a method of mind transference from one body to another. You asked me who died, Jenna. The truth is I don’t know. Vos told me a substitute had been found, a man who looked enough like me to take my place. They put me to sleep and when I woke up I was told this other man had been imprinted with a copy of my mind.”

“They gave him to the Federation?”

“Perhaps. I have only their word for it. What if the real Kerr Avon died and I am the copy?” He caught her staring at him. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The Avon I saw, he looked like you. The same scars―”

“Faked.”

“The same words.”

“Learned.”

“The same memories.”

“Copied.” He drew an uneasy breath. “This is not the first time they have done this. Vos said he himself had been transferred. And before him, Blake.”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. It was too much. “No, I don’t believe it.”

“Don’t... or won’t?” Avon stopped and, turning to face her, took her forcefully by the arms. “The real Roj Blake died a long time ago. The man we knew was a copy, sent out to bolster the Federation’s flagging support by stirring up fear. We were put on that ship to help him.”

“Stop it!” She tried to push him away. He kept a hold on her hand.

“Think, Jenna! A petty thief like Vila sent to a penal colony? As for you, smuggling is still a capital offence.”

“What about you?”

His grip finally loosened. “They needed someone with my skills. I imagine the plan was that Blake would take over the ship. He would have needed a pilot too. That’s where you came in. Well, we were almost successful. The _Liberator_ was an unexpected bonus.” The old fire that had briefly touched his eyes had faded. “They could not have predicted he would have been so successful.” He turned away and pressed his palm to the nearest door lock. The metal pulled back to reveal a medical unit in a similar state of devastation. “How does it feel to have lived a lie?”

It was like being stabbed all over again, except this time the knife was in her heart and being twisted in deeper and deeper. 

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“That’s your prerogative,” he replied, going inside. 

“I was with Blake a long time. He had conviction.”

“Borrowed from a dead man.”

“How do you explain the breakdown of the memory erase?”

“It was supposed to happen. They implanted layer upon layer of false memories in his mind. As one peeled away, another took its place. No wonder he was suffering from a degenerative brain disorder.”

Jenna was about to throw his accusations back in his face. She was back in the cave, remembering all that was familiar about Blake and something different too. “It wasn't bothering him when I last saw him.”

“That’s because it was not him.” He anticipated her protests. “The Blake you knew is dead, Jenna. I should know, I... _killed_ him.” The pause was significant, Jenna noted. “The damage was too extensive. They brought him back to life long enough to retrieve the memories and implant them in another man. This time, they didn’t have far to look for a replacement.”

It took her a moment to understand his meaning. “The clone? But he had IMIPAK.”

“Which would only be effective if he knew they were coming. The illusion of security, I think they call it.”

She propped herself up against the wall. “So that’s why you want to go to Earth. You think the Terra Nostra are planning on staging a coup and putting Blake in charge as their puppet, don’t you? Well, I’m not helping you kill him again.”

He seemed surprised she would even suggest it. “Evidently. There’s something else I need to do.”

“If it’s Servalan, then your friends, Tarrant and Dayna, were going after her.”

“Ah.” The sound escaped him on his outgoing breath. It sounded like regret. “Servalan is still alive, which means there is a good chance they are not. A futile gesture, on the face of it.”

“Dayna was upset by the news of your death. So was Tarrant.”

“Tarrant thinks he owes me,” Avon said dismissively. “He doesn’t. I needed a pilot, as I need you. Well, shall we get this over with?”

Jenna had been surveying what was left of the medical unit. From the look of things, instruments designed for healing had been used for torture. In the centre of the room, a regen capsule with a clear glass lid was dappled with bloody handprints, both inside and out. She shuffled her way over to it, recoiling when her hand landed on an indeterminate brown smear. From the console, she could feel Avon’s growing impatience as she hesitated.

“You have to get in it for it to work,” he urged.

“I know.” Still she held back. “I’m wondering what happened to the previous patient.”

“As I said, they were looking for sport. Victims die if their injuries are left untreated. As you will, Jenna.”

She knew it. Help was so close and she was too weak to take advantage of it. “I can’t get up,” she was forced to admit.

Grudgingly, he put her hands around her waist and lifted her up onto the bed. She winced at the jolt and told herself it was not for much longer. When she opened her eyes, it was to find Avon staring at her, an odd expression on his face. He kept his hands where they were, lightly touching without being restricting.

“Don’t give up yet,” he said softly. “I didn’t chase you halfway across this sector to lose you now.”

From anyone else, she could have accepted it as a genuine sentiment. Coming from him, it felt false. He needed a pilot, nothing more. “What happened to you?” she asked.

He released her. “I was a prisoner of the Terra Nostra for nine months. I was forced to work for them. A simple algorithm to fool the banking system into identifying every hundredth credit as a counterfeit. All the effects of forgery without the effort. The value of the currency plummets and everything suddenly becomes more expensive. Meanwhile, the Federation blames the rebels and the rebels blame the Federation. Round and round it goes, while the Terra Nostra gather in all those real credits and wait. The result: economic chaos.” 

No, Jenna thought, the real result had been counted in lost lives, turmoil on countless worlds and suffering to millions. “Not much to be proud of,” she said bitterly.

He turned dull eyes on her. “Without intervention, the destruction of Star One would have produced a similar result. The Federation stopped that happening. This time, they have not. Ask yourself why.”

She struggled to find an answer. “Servalan.”

“She will benefit, certainly. I will not allow that to happen. Lie down.”

She did as she was told, wincing as the strain tugged the wound apart. They had used restraints on the last patient; the metal cuffs swinging from the bedside still bore traces of their skin. Above her, a fine spray of blood had splashed across the ceiling. It was not reassuring.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” she called out to him.

He was too busy making adjustments to the programme to answer. When he reappeared in her line of sight, she was shocked to see a trickle of red escaping his nose.

“Avon, you’re bleeding,” she said.

He wiped the blood away with his fingers and swore under his breath. He had his back to her as she watched and speculated about the hand she saw delving into his inside pocket, the snap of a lid being cracked open and the backwards tilt of his head as he consumed whatever liquid the vial had contained.

“Are you all right?” she asked with concern as he came back to her side.

“Yes. Lie down.” She waited with growing trepidation as Avon closed the clear lid of the capsule over her head and adjusted the settings. “If you need me, call,” he said.

It started as warm glow, comforting and enveloping. Then it began to intensify, constricting to focus on the site of her wound. The pain became crushing, pinning her down and choking the breath from her lungs. Unable to speak or move, she was paralysed and fully conscious to every agonising sensation of the process. Avon was occupied on the other side of the room. It felt like an age before he finally turned and saw what was happening. 

As soon as the pressure eased, she fought her way free. “You did that on purpose,” she said, doubled over and clutching at her stomach.

“Interesting,” he said, inspecting the programme. “Someone disabled the analgesic protocols.”

“Considerate of them. Can you reinstate them?”

“No,” he replied thoughtfully. “They have been removed. It’s a pity the crimos put their talents to such worthless enterprise. Some of their ideas are not without merit.”

“Only you would think that.”

“Without the programme they created to halt the self-destruction of captured ships, you would not be here, Jenna.”

“I did wonder how you did that.”

“I pushed a button. They did the rest.”

“I’m less impressed with this invention,” she said. “I’m going to need something to kill the pain.”

“Look around you,” said Avon. “Their interests ran to _inflicting_ pain, not relieving it.”

Jenna had to accept he had a point. “Then we’ll have to do this in short bursts.”

“We don’t have that sort of time. Unless...” To her consternation, he left abruptly. When he returned, he was carrying a bottle of clear liquid. “I found this earlier in the commander’s quarters. An antiseptic preparation with a local anaesthetic. Primitive, but it should meet your requirements. I’ll have to inspect the injury to administer it.”

Jenna did not move.

“Don’t believe me?” he said.

“It’s what you said, Avon. Crimos are not noted for their compassion.”

“I need you fit and alert. Harming you at this point will achieve nothing.”

From his own warped perspective, it was a persuasive argument. She laid back, parting her clothing just enough to allow him to see the site of the injury. Carefully, he lifted the wadding and grimaced. 

“Go to sleep, Jenna.”

Too late to stop him, she caught the harsh smell of strong alcohol as he unscrewed the lid from the bottle and tipped the liquid straight onto her stomach. She lurched, fire flaring where it touched raw flesh, calling him every name he deserved and more, before blessed oblivion swept her into darkness.


	4. Shadows

**Chapter Four**

“Do you want to tell me why you’ve diverted us to Restless?”

Frustration building over the last ten days of their association had finally got the better of her. Silence, secrets and now this: a course change without warning or reason. Driven by anger, she had walked straight into his cabin without knocking. She immediately regretted it. In a state of undress after his shift, Avon was busy wiping his face on a blood-stained towel. 

“Come in,” he said archly.

“Sorry,” she muttered, looking away.

After their initial discussion and the trick had he played on her in the medical unit, Avon had retreated. He would not be drawn on anything but essential information. He kept his distance. She only saw him when they changed over shifts and then for the briefest of exchanges. To an extent, it suited her. He was not the easiest person to live with at the best of times and now, with too much history between them, she had very little she wanted to say to him. If she was honest, she found his presence uncomfortable. The verbal banter of former times was gone, replaced by sullenness and a stark refusal to look her in the eye.

The most contact they had had been two days ago, when they had abandoned the prison transporter and its increasingly noxious surroundings for a Powerstar Class C refrigerated cargo ship. Another victim of raiders, the contents had been stripped and the crew taken. Typical amateurs, they had left behind the most valuable thing of all, the ship. Utilitarian but clean, it had been a welcome change after the foetid atmosphere of the crimo ship. Because of the perishable nature of the goods it was designed to carry, it was one of the few civilian vessels that could comfortably attain maximum speeds of Time Distort 10. Now they were making steady progress back to Earth.

Or so she had thought. When she had gone to take over from him, Avon had brushed past her as though she did not exist and left her to discover that they were hundreds of thousands of spacials off course. The new destination was set as Asteroid Mistril 7622 in Sector Nine, otherwise known as the trading post of Restless. It had not been the change so much as his careless attitude about telling her. That, coupled with the certain knowledge there were other things he was keeping from her, had made her reckless. She had forced her way into his domain and he was not happy about the intrusion.

“Where are we going?” she demanded.

“You’ve already worked that out for yourself,” Avon said, turning his back on her. The towel was discarded and he went in search of a clean shirt.

“Why Restless?”

He returned, fastening his studs. The material folded over his thin torso and filled out the depressions left by his ribs.

“We need supplies.”

He was lying again. The crimos had looted enough food from other vessels to last ten years. They had brought the entire stock with them before destroying the prison ship. The haul had included several locked crates that Avon had ferreted away in his cabin. She could see them now, stacked in the corner. Gold and other valuables, she assumed. There was nothing else Avon valued so highly that he would keep from her if he thought she wanted it.

“There’s nothing we need on Restless that we can’t get anywhere else,” she said.

“All right,” Avon conceded. “Something I need.”

That was better, she thought. That was the truth. With the Federation in retreat, business had resumed on Restless. Black market goods, illicit pleasures, every whim and vice that needed indulging, someone on the wandering asteroid was sure to be able to provide it.

“What do you need?” she persisted.

“That’s none of your business.”

She folded her arms and remained where she was. “It is if you expect me to land this ship on Restless.”

“I’ll do it,” Avon said.

“You’re not that good a pilot.”

A feral grin touched his features. “Watch me.”

“Watch you kill us both, you mean?”

“I could lock you in the hold, if you prefer.”

He had been approaching steadily. It was the first time in days she had allowed him to get this close. If he was trying to force her out, he was wasting his time. She wanted answers.

“Why don’t you just tell me, Avon,” she urged, “what’s so important that you are willing to risk the Federation finding out you’re alive?”

He lingered, testing her resolve, before finally backing off. “Shadow.”

Of all the things he could have said, that was unexpected. But the more she thought about it, so his recent behaviour began to make sense.

“So that’s the deal you made with the Terra Nostra. I wondered why they let you go. Your freedom in return for running shadow for them.”

It was Avon’s turn to register his surprise. “They didn’t let me go. I escaped. And the shadow... is for me.”

“You’re not a dream head.” It was the look he gave that made her realise she had made a terrible mistake. “I don’t believe it.”

“I did say I was _forced_ to work for them,” he said meaningfully.

She could imagine what that had involved. “How bad is it?”

“If I don’t find what I need on Restless, I’ll die.” He made a rueful noise at the back of his throat. “That should please you.”

“It doesn’t. How much you do have left?”

She took the liberty of investigating the boxes. Avon did not stop her. Three were empty. The uppermost one was a quarter full, not with the golden globes she had been expecting but with about twenty of the small glass vials she had seen him using in the medical unit. She took one out and studied the clear liquid within.

“This isn’t shadow,” she said.

“ _Refined_ shadow,” Avon said, taking it from her. “All the problems of addiction without a loss of performance. This is what they reserve for their special 'guests'.” He snapped off the lid and swallowed the contents. “Despite their promises, I knew they were never going to let me go. When they had finished with me, they were going to stop my supply and let me die. One day that will happen, but on my terms.”

She watched him, feeling sick to her stomach. Whether by withdrawal or continued use, they had given him a death sentence. “I’m sorry,” she said. He gave her a dubious look. “I mean it. When will you need another dose?”

“When I start bleeding again. That should be in another five hours time.”

“As soon as that?”

“My tolerance has been steadily building. What I have left won’t be enough to get me back to Earth. So you see, I need those supplies.”

“I’ll get you to Restless,” she said. “And I’ll come with you when you make the trade.”

“No.” Avon was firm. “I’ll do this alone. The Terra Nostra controls the supply, which means the dealer has links with them. They will be looking for me. I killed one of their men, a sadist by the name of Seth, when I escaped. For that, if not for the shadow I stole from them, they will want retribution.”

“All the more reason why I should come.”

“Don’t be a fool. If this goes wrong, they will kill you too.”

“We stand more chance together. I’m coming.” He was probably right, she thought, but when had that ever stopped them? “How are you paying him?”

Avon’s answer was to place a weapon on the table. “I’m not. I’m going to kill him.”

* * * * * * *

Restless had changed. Where once there had been filth and vermin, the floors had been swept, the tables scrubbed cleaned of blood and cheap beer, and someone had put up some cheerful string lights. The bar rang to the sound of chatter and laughter and flirting and threats. With the Federation gone, life had returned to this forsaken part of the galaxy and Restless, if such a thing were possible, was becoming respectable. Deals were still being done under the table, but as long as it was discreet, everyone was pretending they had not noticed. Under new management – Terra Nostra probably, Vila thought – Restless was reinventing itself as a home amongst the stars for weary travellers. Food, beds, medicine and every other comfort anyone with anything to trade might reasonably expect.

As he had nothing, he was attracting more interest than usual. People who sat at these tables were in search of something stronger than the glass of water he had in front of him. He could hear the whispers. The attention was starting to make him sweat.

“Want some company, sweetie?”

A comely woman with long black hair and squeezed into bright red leather slashed in all the right places slid into the seat opposite him. Her voice reminded him of Aura with her sexy tones. It reminded him of other things too, of the last time he had been at this place, the last time they had all been together. Now Avon was dead, Tarrant and Dayna were long gone and Soolin... well, she was meant to have been back an hour ago. A meeting with a potential client, she had said, someone who needed her particular skills. Vila had tried telling her it was risky, especially in a place like this, but she had laughed at his fears and told him to find himself something to do while she was gone that was not expensive and did not involve drinking. So here he was, alone and making everyone suspicious.

“Yes, I do want company,” he said eagerly.

She smiled and trailed a long finger over her red lips. “What did you... have in mind?”

“Just to talk. I’m with someone, you see.”

“No, you aren’t. You’ve been sitting here on your own for ages. Now,” she said reaching across to lightly brush his hand, “what do you want?”

“Nothing,” came a voice from behind him. Vila glanced around. Soolin had appeared, looking less than impressed. “He can’t afford you. Go.”

Having seen off the competition, Soolin took her seat. With her long hair caught up at the top to keep it from her face, and clad in a high-collared, close-fitting grey and white outfit, it was her turn to spark the patrons’ interest. Lucky man, Vila could hear them saying. If they only knew.

Her knowing smile never faltered as she took up his glass and sniffed it. Satisfied he was keeping his word about abstinence, she took a sip and pushed it back to him. “I thought I told you to keep out of trouble,” she said.

“I am!” he protested. “It’s not my fault if I’m irresistible to women.”

“You aren’t. Your money is. If you had any.”

“Anyway, where were you?” said Vila. “I was getting worried.”

“Finding us a way off Restless,” she replied, giving him a sideways glance. “No thanks to you.”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“You were in charge.”

He could not argue with that. They had crashed on landing and the ship was only fit for salvage. In his defence, Vila considered it was a miracle they had made it down at all. Safer though it might have been outside the Federation’s rapidly shrinking territories, there were few opportunities for either a thief or a mercenary now that the freed planets were looking to reclaim their independence. Criminals were neither welcome nor encouraged. With food running low, they had tried to run the borders back into Federation space. The ship had been attacked by raiders and, damaged beyond repair, they had limped back to Restless. Now they were stranded.

“What does he want, your contact?” Vila asked.

“He needs a bodyguard,” Soolin said absently. “He’s here to do a deal and he’s concerned about the buyer. He doesn’t trust him.”

“Wise man. Did you say yes?”

“Of course I did. In return, he’s going to organise us transport on a ship out of here.” She hesitated. “There’s something else.”

“Oh?”

“He doesn’t want to meet the man himself. He wants a decoy.”

Vila snorted a laugh. “Who’d be silly enough to volunteer for that?” He caught Soolin looking at him. “Oh, no. Not me. I don’t want to be killed! Once in a lifetime, that’s my limit!”

“Calm down, Vila,” Soolin said. “I’ll be there.”

“What if he’s quicker? What if he shoots you too?”

“Do you want to eat?”

His stomach let out a growl. “All right, but if I get killed, I’ll never forgive you. What is he selling anyway?”

There was that pause again. “Shadow.”

“Shadow!” Vila was up on his feet so fast his chair tipped over. The buzz in the bar stopped. Soolin pulled him back down. “Are you mad?” he hissed. “Haven’t you heard? You never meddle with the Terra Nostra! Not if you value your protruding bits.”

“This isn’t the Terra Nostra,” she replied in a low voice.

“Of course it is. He’s working for them. Soolin, listen to me.” He put on his best pleading face. Not that it ever worked with her, but it was worth a try. “We’ve done this before, me, Blake and the others.”

“I know, Vila, you’ve told me.” Soolin looked bored. “Many times.”

“Shadow is nasty stuff,” he insisted. “Gan didn’t like it.”

“Gan’s dead.

“Jenna didn’t like it.”

“Jenna’s dead.”

“Look what they did to Avon.”

“You’ve got a lot of dead friends, haven’t you, Vila?” Soolin looked up from a close inspection of her nails. “I could do it without you, but then you stay here. I don’t think you’d like that. Now, what’s it to be: survival or your morals?”

He swallowed hard. He thought of the poor wretches crouched in the service corridors, begging for whatever they could get, selling whatever they had. 

“Yes, but shadow,” he moaned. “Have you seen what it does to people?”

“We aren’t selling it,” Soolin said, getting to her feet. “We are being paid for our services.”

“All right,” Vila said mournfully. “When do we do it?”

“Ten minutes.” He almost choked. “Well, are you coming?”

He was, with the greatest of reluctance. Soolin had insisted on disguises in case the buyer recognised them, and so, bundled up with a scarf wrapped round his head, leaving only his eyes on view, Vila found himself sitting in a dingy backroom of the bar, his insides shaking, desperate for a drink and wondering how he had come to this. He did not have long to wait. Soolin entered with two figures in black, both similarly disguised.

“I’ve checked them for weapons,” Soolin said. Her voice sounded muffled and unfamiliar. Had he not recognised the material she had wound around her mouth, he would not have known it was her.

“Right,” said Vila uncertainly. He cleared his throat and lowered his pitch. “Sit.”

The shorter of the two figures took the opposite seat. “You have what we want?”

A woman, Vila assumed, if he was any judge of the scraps of blonde hair peeping out from under her wrappings.

“There,” he said, nodding to the silver boxes in the corner. 

“You don’t mind if we check?”

Vila shook his head. The standing figure went to the crates and methodically went through each of the contents. With a nod, he stepped back in place.

So far, so good. Now the tricky part, Vila thought. Beneath the scarf, he was soaked in sweat. He could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears. 

“You have payment?” he said. His voice sounded steadier than he would have thought under the circumstances.

The woman put a small metal box on the table. “Diamonds, as requested.”

Vila went to reach for it, then remembered the trembling in his hands and stopped. Any sign of nervousness would alert them that something was wrong. Then there was the seller’s concerns that these people could not be trusted. They said it was diamonds, but there could be anything in that box. Gas, knives, a poisonous snake, anything.

“Open it,” Vila instructed.

The woman hesitated, then with a glance at her companion, retrieved the box and slowly lifted the lid. With care, she turned it around for Vila to see the contents. It was empty.

There was the quick rasp of metal scraping against metal and suddenly everyone had a weapon. The standing man had produced a small gun from a false skin pad fitted over his palm and had it aimed at Vila’s head. Soolin had matched him stroke for stroke and had her own gun, drawn from behind her back, pointed at the seated woman. 

“No one move!” she commanded. 

The seated woman ignored her and from her cleavage produced a bullet-shaped device, which she set on the table. Vila drew back, recognising the familiar shape of a micro-grenade. The man’s gun twitched and followed his every movement.

“Checkmate,” said the woman calmly. “All we want is the shadow.”

“We can’t let you take it,” said Soolin. “We need that payment.”

“Then we have a problem. This grenade is set with a minute timer. Give us the shadow and I’ll deactivate it. If not, no one leaves.”

“You won’t do that.”

“Are you willing to find out?”

“Oh, now, wait a minute!” Vila said, leaping to his feet. In his haste, he forgot himself. His voice reverted to normal and his scarf started to come loose. “Let’s not be hasty!”

The seated woman started. “Vila? Vila Restal? Is that you?”

He stared at her, aware that Soolin was glaring at him for dropping his disguise. “Yes. I mean, no! I don’t know anyone by that name!” 

The woman stood up, dragging down the material around her face. “Vila, it’s me!”

He could not stop the smile that spread across his features as he recognised her. “Jenna!” He rushed over and gave her a hug to make sure she was real. “I thought you were dead.”

“It’s complicated, Vila.”

“It must be,” said Soolin. She released her own wrappings with one hand while keeping a steady aim at the other man. “Who is this?”

“A friend. Lower your weapon.” Soolin mirrored the man’s action and stowed her gun away. Jenna glanced over at her companion. “Do you want to tell them or shall I?”

In answer, the man unwound the material he had used to hide his face. 

“Oh, no,” Vila groaned. “Not you!”


	5. Doubt

“I buried you!” Vila said, jabbing his finger at Avon. “An hour it took me! In the blazing sun and me with just a shovel. Near killed me it did.”

“Vila, that’s not the issue,” Soolin snapped at him. She was looking Avon up and down, trying to come to a decision. “What are you? Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” he replied.

“I killed a mutoid who had your looks, your voice, your _peculiarities_. And you ask me who I think you are?” The gun came up again, levelled at his heart. “If you bleed green, I’ll know.”

“He doesn’t,” Jenna spoke up.

“I’m supposed to take your word for it?” Her gaze swept in Jenna’s direction. “You went looking for Blake and you found him, according to Avalon. How did that work out for you?”

Vila winced slightly. The steely look Jenna usually carried in her eyes had slipped for a moment. If he had had any doubts about what had happened between her and Blake, they vanished in that moment. He felt a surge of sympathy for her. It was poor reward for all those years of loyalty. Worse still was the realisation that if Blake could do that to her, what did he have in store for the rest of them?

“Avalon says a lot of things,” she retorted. “I wouldn’t believe all of it.”

“She said you were a traitor.”

“That least of all.”

“Possibly. As for you,” Soolin said, turning back to Avon, “I shot you through the head.”

Avon’s lips parted in a smile that was half-amusement, half-scorn. “I’m sure I was grateful.”

He had been steadily approaching her. Finally close enough for the gun barrel to bump against his chest, he tried to push it away, only for Soolin to hold it steady. Their eyes locked. Her fingers turned white as he tested her limits. Vila felt a sweat start to bead on his forehead. Soolin had killed men for less reason in the past. _Some reunion this was going to be_ , he fretted.

“Wrong answer,” she said. “Avon was never grateful for anything. Vila, get away from them. It’s a trap!”

“Let’s not be hasty,” he protested, starting forward. “Don’t shoot them. We’ve only just found them.”

“All the more reason.” She never took her eyes from Avon’s face. “Of all the people we could meet here, you don’t find it strange it’s these two? They’re meant to be dead. Well, this time, I’m going to make sure. You first, Avon.”

“What would change your mind?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “Something only you and I would know. Something they haven’t tortured out of you to give credence to your performance.” There was a challenge in her voice. He held back as if unsure. “What’s wrong? Or didn’t they teach you that?”

“Perhaps I’m shy.”

Soolin snorted. “That was never your problem. If it’s them you’re worried about,” she said, jerking her head in Jenna and Vila’s direction, “they already know.”

“Well, then...”

With an easy movement, he swept the gun aside, pulled her to him and kissed her. When he tried to pull away, too quickly, she grabbed his arms, trapping him, and what had started out as a perfunctory obligation deepened with a swift gradation of intensity. 

The longer it went on, the more uncomfortable Vila became. That’s what old friends do, he tried to reassure himself; it’s perfectly understandable that they would want to pick up where they left off. No reason to be jealous. Theirs had never been an exclusive relationship in any case. It had been... _convenient_ , yes, that what it was, he told himself, just a bit of fun, nothing more. All the same, watching them now, he could not help but think that Soolin had never kissed him quite that.

“Shouldn’t we leave them alone?” he whispered to Jenna.

She was not listening. Her gaze was fixed so intently on the pair that Vila had to wonder what she was thinking. At least he was being discreet, he thought. If Avon caught him staring like that, there would have been hell to pay. Jenna, though? If he was any judge, her interest was less voyeurism than some undefinable deep-seated concern that showed in a tightening of the lines around her eyes.

“Well?” said Avon finally when Soolin released him.

“You’re out of practice.”

“Do I pass?”

“Close enough.” She stowed her weapon away. “What about her?”

“I need her.”

“Really.” Soolin sounded dubious. “What about the shadow, Avon? According to Vila, Madame Purity here has some deep moral objection to it.”

“I can speak for myself,” Jenna said.

Soolin sauntered over to her. “Very well. Why do you need it?”

“Why are you selling it?”

“I’m working. The seller seemed to think his life was in danger. He wasn’t wrong, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t,” said Avon. “That could be a problem.”

“He can’t have known it was you,” said Jenna.

“Who else would need it?”

The look he gave her and the way she backed down without argument alerted Vila that there was more to this than the pair of them would ever admit. His curiosity was peaked. Whatever they were up to, it sounded like trouble.

“Lots of people trade in shadow,” he queried. “Why would they think it’s you?”

“This is refined shadow, not what the dream heads use,” said Jenna. “There’s a limited market for it.”

“Yes, but why–”

“We have to leave,” said Avon, cutting him short. “Soolin, I need that shadow. Are you going to let us have it?”

She had been hovering near the crates, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You appear to need a lot of things, Avon. Are you going to tell us why?”

“No.”

“I see. In that case, we need a way out of here. Take us with you and it’s yours.”

“I’m going to Earth.”

She shrugged. “Anywhere will do, as along as it’s away from Restless.”

Avon smiled grimly. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Vila, get the shadow. Come on!”

“Oh, now wait a minute,” Vila said. “Rule Number One: you don’t steal from the Terra Nostra. Everyone knows that.”

“They know who has it. It’s me they will come after.”

“And that doesn’t worry you?!” His brow creased into a frenzy of furrows. “It would worry me. I’d never sleep a wink again. Couldn’t we leave them a tip or something?”

“You can, if you like,” Soolin said. “If you’ve got anything.”

“We could leave them that grenade. You have deactivated it, haven’t you, Jenna?”

“That would be difficult,” she replied. “It’s not fitted with an explosive charge. We had a supply problem.”

“Hasn’t everyone?” said Soolin archly. “Get on with it, Vila.”

She went to check the exit was clear while he stooped to gather up the boxes. As he did so, he caught the muted question Jenna directed at Avon as he passed.

“Convinced now?”

Avon gave her a dismissive glance. “There is such a thing as muscle memory.”

“Doesn’t that mean they are your muscles?”

“My memory, if nothing else.”

“That must count for something.” She noticed Vila watching them. “You need to get back. You’re almost out of time.”

With Avon going ahead, Vila heaved his awkward burden into his arms and caught up with Jenna. “What was all that about?”

“Nothing.”

“He’s all right, is he?”

Jenna pursed her lips. “Not really, Vila. I’d stay away from him if I were you.”

“I’m sorry about Soolin,” he said a little breathlessly as he struggled to keep up. The boxes weighed more than he had been expecting. “She doesn’t trust easily.” He studied her expression, trying to read what was going on behind her eyes. “Did Blake really stab you?”

“Yes,” she said flatly. “Do you want to see the scar?”

“No,” he said hurriedly. “I believe you.”

She put distance between them after that, following Avon and Soolin’s lead in checking the way back to the ship was free of vengeful dealers and Terra Nostra thugs. He was trailing and getting further behind all the time. Stopping to catch his breath, he thought he caught the tramp of approaching footsteps. Panic gripped him. Behind was darkness. Ahead, the service tunnel stretched long and smooth. Nowhere to hide. Whoever had built this place had not given much thought to anyone trapped down here when ships took off from the landing area. If the fumes did not get them, the heat would. With that in mind, Vila grabbed the boxes and set off at a run.

Soaked in sweat by the time he reached the airlock, he found Soolin waiting impatiently for him.

“People following me!” he panted. “Down there.”

“They can stay there,” she said, hauling him by the collar through the hatch. She squinted into the darkness before hitting the lock. The door slid shut.

“Soolin, are we sure about this?” Vila was on his knees, gasping, perspiration dribbling down his temples. “I mean, Earth. It isn’t exactly healthy, is it?”

“You have a better suggestion?”

“Yes. Run! We were doing all right on our own, just the two of us. Weren’t we?”

She caught the plaintive note in his voice and gave a soft snort. “That’s what’s worrying you? Avon? Don’t worry, Vila. I’m not about to ditch you. Not just yet, anyway.” She stole a glance over her shoulder. Jenna and Avon were already some way off on the other side of the hanger nearing their ship. “Stay alert. Something isn’t right about those two.”

“Oh, you noticed that, did you?” 

“Avon didn’t answer your question about the shadow.”

“Nor did Jenna, come to that.”

“I trust her least of all.” Soolin considered. “I could believe the reports were wrong about one of them but not both. You know what they say, Vila: no smoke without fire. And Blake did try to kill her.”

“No, I don’t believe it.” Memories of their recent conversation drifted back to him. “Although she did just warn me off speaking to Avon.”

“Then that’s what you should do. See what you can get out of him.”

“Oh, right, strike up a conversation, you mean. About the old days when the Federation were shooting plasma bolts at us and we were running from one crisis to another.”

Soolin looked unimpressed. “Or you could ask him why he tried to kill you.”

Vila opened his mouth and shut it again, like a fish out of water. He had never quite got used to her ability to render him speechless. “I know why,” he said eventually. “I didn’t know you did.”

She shrugged lightly. “Not the details. I guessed something had happened on Malodar. You were scared witless and he was different that night. I couldn’t drag it out of him, but you’ve just confirmed that I was right.”

“Well, if you know and I know, why have I got to ask Avon?”

“To see if _he_ knows,” she said pointedly. “I want to make sure he is who he claims to be.”

“What if he isn’t?”

A determined look settled on her features. “Then I’m going to kill him before he kills us.”

* * * * * * *

Avon’s hand clamped around Jenna’s upper arm as she came through the hatch. Roughly pulling her aside, he glanced out of the ship before pushing her up against the wall.

“Let go of me!” she protested, trying to prise his fingers free. Instead his hand caught her other arm and used his strength against her, pinning her struggles and bruising her skin.

“Jenna, listen!” he hissed. 

There was wildness in his eyes as he pushed his face closer. If she did not know better, she would have said he was scared. Either that or the shadow had finally tipped him into insanity. She stopped fighting him and tried not to let her own fears show in her face.

“All right,” she said as calmly as she could, hoping he was too intent on his own problems to feel the blood hammering through her veins beneath his fingertips. “I’m listening.”

“Those two, don’t trust them.”

It took her by surprise. “Why?”

“As you said, there are few people who need refined shadow. That makes me easy to find.”

“You don’t think those two are working for the Terra Nostra?”

He finally released his grip. “Why not? Soolin will work for the highest bidder and Vila will do what he’s told. They could be planning to kill you, Jenna. The Terra Nostra want you dead.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. “That’s not a comforting thought.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. Call me paranoid–”

“You are.”

His eyes came rest on hers. She searched and found the familiar. Rational Avon was temporarily back in control. That only made what he was saying all the more worrying.

“Paranoia has kept me alive,” he said. “It also tells me not to believe in coincidence. A meeting with a dealer with a particular item to sell and those two show up? Tell me you don’t find that strange.”

“Yes,” she had to admit. “Although I find it hard to accept that they would be working for the Terra Nostra.”

“Not willingly perhaps. It depends what they have been told. Why, for example, Blake would have tried to kill you.”

Jenna folded her arms. “Vila did ask that.”

“Because he knows Blake would never do that unless he had good reason. Unless he knew you were a traitor. It’s a persuasive argument.” He let the thought lie. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a convenient accident once we get off Restless. Misplaced loyalty can be a dangerous thing.”

“What about you? If the Terra Nostra want you dead, they could have killed you when you came for the shadow.”

“Because they don’t want me dead.” His lips compressed into a hard thin line. “Not yet, anyway. They want me back on Earth. I have been primed, Jenna, to carry out their bidding. I will not do it. Soolin and Vila may have been sent to make sure I do.”

She shook her head uncertainly. “You can’t know that.”

“They were keen to convince me that I am Kerr Avon.” The change in his voice was subtle, softer as though his usual strength had ebbed away. “And Kerr Avon was told such things that he no longer knows what to believe.”

His eyes had frozen over, like the surface of a barren moon. For Jenna, still trapped between him and wall, the change was unnerving, as though he had retreated from her into an invisible shell where he was unreachable. It was not the first time she had witnessed it, but with every episode she realised he was backing further away from reality. Whatever he found there she hoped was a comfort, because sooner or later, the last tenuous links would break and he was going to stay there forever.

Calling his name finally brought him back to her. He drew a long breath and clarity was restored.

“What now?” he said. 

“Vila and Soolin,” she said. “Don’t bring them on the ship if you believe the Terra Nostra are using them. Don’t make them choose.”

“They were very keen to come with us. We didn’t force them.” The old determination was back in his voice as he extracted the gun from his pocket. “You know that old saying about keeping your friends close? Well, let’s find out what they are, Jenna. Friends... _or enemies_.”


	6. Broken

**Chapter Six**

Vila was hovering. Out of the corner of her eye, Jenna could see he had something in his hand that caught the light. Was this how it was going to be, she wondered. A knife in her back when he thought she was not expecting it? Turning her head cautiously for a better view, she was relieved to see it was only a glass. Damn Avon and his paranoia, she silently cursed. He had her jumping at shadows. 

Or shadow, she corrected herself. It was a pattern she had noticed. The nearer he got to needing a dose, the worse he got. By her calculations, he was overdue.

She suppressed the urge to tell him to take it. None of her business, she told herself. Still, if these two were about to try something, he was not going to be in a fit state to do anything about it. If he was right. It seemed unlikely. Vila was preoccupied with filling his stomach and Soolin was keeping her distance. Living on her nerves and too long on the run was making her as bad as Avon. And she still had the ship to fly.

She took one final look at Vila, told herself she was being ridiculous and tried to concentrate on getting them off Restless in one piece.

He caught her looking and misconstrued her meaning. “Want one?” he offered, gesturing to the glass.

“I need a clear head,” she muttered.

“It’s not alcoholic. Although,” he added worriedly, “now’s the time I could do with one.”

He was watching the horizon rise on the main screen. A wide belt of stars striped the black of space beyond the orange gas giants of the Ysopa system. Riding the gravitational fields between them, Restless was relentless, forever travelling with its attendant trail of rock and broken vessels following on behind. A few more had been added since last she had visited. It was the price paid by the inexperienced and the careless. Given the speed of the asteroid, the trick was to take off and rise above the debris field before it caught up. It took skill and absolute concentration, not easy when the atmosphere on the flight deck was this tense.

Somewhere behind her too, she knew Avon was prowling. Out of her sight, just knowing he was there with whatever he was planning was putting her on edge. He was not making it any easier. 

“Um, Jenna,” ventured Vila. A warning beacon had started to pulse. “Do you need a hand?”

“I’ve got it,” she said, gritting her teeth as the ship fought to correct the lateral drift. “Almost there.”

Coming out from Restless backwards, letting the asteroid speed away and then rapidly pulling up, relying on the sensors all the way, it was working. Something suddenly rattled against the hull, then another and another. The helm lit up and the flight deck filled the sound of proximity alarms. Built for stamina rather than delicate manoeuvres, the old cargo ship was struggling and rapidly falling into the path of the advancing collection of twisted metal and giant ice rocks. 

“Come on!” she urged, watching the speed build. 

Still not fast enough, the force wall shuddered as something larger rocked the ship from stern to bow. A red warning light was added to the already flashing array, telling that the strain was proving too much. One more direct hit would cause it to collapse. Then another siren was added to the cacophony.

“I don’t want to worry you,” Vila said, an edge of panic rising in his voice, “but there’s a lump of rock that looks like Earth’s big brother heading our way!”

She hoped he was panicking over nothing until she saw it for herself. The scale of the thing filled the rear scanner. Not planet-sized, but more than enough to pulverise them into dust and ashes.

“Hold on,” she grated. “This will be close!”

The forward thrusters were beginning to shake loose. She kept a firm hold on the controls, tried to keep the ship steady as a sea of ice and scree on the outer edge of the debris field raced alongside, making the force wall sparkle where they touched until all that was before them was the distant stars and clear space. The giant rock flew by, chasing Restless like a devoted lover.

Jenna released a long breath. “I’ll have that drink now, Vila.”

“Not up to your usual standard,” Avon said as he wandered into her line of sight.

A sudden flare of red and yellow lit the retreating rocks. A momentary flash and then it was gone. Another ship had been added to the collection of those who had failed the test of Restless.

“We made it,” said Vila, returning with a filled glass. “What are you complaining about?”

“You’re not going to drink that?” Avon said under his breath.

Jenna hesitated. Plain water in a clear glass. No oily swirls to betray a pinch of poison. No lingering smells of corrosive chemicals. Just water, and Vila looking rather pleased with himself. She set it aside.

“Course?” she asked. “I assume we are heading back to Earth.”

Avon ignored her question and instead he keyed in a sequence on the navigational computer. 

Jenna glanced at it and frowned. “You’re looping us back across the path of Restless? There won’t be much of a margin of error.”

He seemed to find something amusing. “Losing your nerve?”

“Losing your mind?”

His eyes glittered like polished obsidian. “I need to know.”

“This is Vila we’re talking about.”

“Then drink the water.”

He had a point. She could not bring herself to do it. On the other side of the room, Vila and Soolin were huddled together deep in discussion. Plans being made, she wondered, or Vila planning his next raid on their supplies?

“All right,” she said in a low voice to Avon. “What are you planning?”

Just at that moment, she saw Soolin nudge Vila hard enough to propel him in their direction. He looked unhappy about it and had to force a smile on his face. Avon turned to stare away into space, not wanting to engage.

“Well,” Vila said brightly. “This is... like old times.”

“Your memories must be very different from mine,” said Jenna with a sigh. “What do you want?”

His mouth opened and closed like a flustered fish. Worryingly, Jenna saw him glance back at Soolin, who urged him on with an insistent nod.

“Anything I can do?” he managed. “Extra pair of eyes on the detectors? Rumour is there’s a crimo ship roaming about somewhere.”

“That was us.”

“Oh.” He took a moment to assimilate that information. “What were you doing on a crimo ship?”

“Stealing their supplies.”

His gaze dropped to the food packet he was holding. “I think I’ve just lost my appetite.” He tossed it aside and dusted off his hands. He continued to linger as though he had something else on his mind. Finally, he found his voice. “Avon, about what you did.”

He had caught his attention. “What did I do?”

“For me. Jenna told me.”

Avon’s gaze drifted in her direction. “Refresh my memory.”

Vila looked nervously from one to the other of them. “About the deal you made with Avalon for the Lazarus drug?”

Jenna felt herself cringing. She could feel Avon’s eyes boring into her. 

“Is that what you told them?” he said.

“They seemed to care about what happened to you. I thought you deserved something. I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“Evidently.”

“So what did happen?” Soolin came over to join the conversation Her voice was thick with suspicion and accusation. “Vila seemed to think Jenna had nothing to do with it.”

“She didn’t!” He turned speculative eyes on her. “Did you?”

“No,” said Jenna. The mood had shifted fast. Three against one and not in her favour. Even Vila has having doubts. She rounded on Avon. “You gave me that weapon.”

“I didn’t expect you to hold it to my head.”

“It was empty.”

“You didn’t know that. Avalon didn’t know that.”

“You were never going to walk out of there alive. They were ready to kill all of us!”

“So you thought I was a good trade for _him_?” A jerk of his head in Vila’s direction was punctuated with a resounding sniff. “What gave you the right to make that choice?” 

Jenna stared hard at him, trying to see the telltale trace of blood at his nose. Beside her, Vila was looking crestfallen.

“That’s enough,” she said.

“I haven’t started yet.”

Before she could stop him, he was back at the console, his hands flying over the controls. The whine from the main drive suddenly faded to nothing. Jenna gripped the helm only to find it unresponsive. On the forward screen, Restless spun into view, growing ever larger.

“What are you doing?” she yelled.

“I’ve locked you out,” he declared. “See how it feels to have a gun held your head.” She watched as he sniffed again and pinched his nose. “Why did Blake let you live? To send you after me?”

“You found me!”

“Convenient, wasn’t it? Were they right about you, Jenna? Are you here to kill me because I know what he is?” 

The look in his eyes was terrifying. Wild, uncontrollable, scattered, unfocused. There would be no reasoning with him. In his current state of mind, he was liable to let them crash into the approaching asteroid.

“Avon, what is this?” Soolin demanded.

His anger turned to her. “How much are the Terra Nostra paying you?”

“I’m not working for the Terra Nostra!”

“What about you?” Avon said to Vila.

His eyes were darting back and forth between the sight of Restless hurtling towards them and the formidable look on Avon’s face. “I’m not!” he protested. “I never would. You know me!”

“Do I? You said you wouldn’t forget, Vila.”

Avon was shaking and breathing hard. The blood he was trying to sniff back was starting to show, a shadow emerging from his left nostril. The hunger had locked him in with his demons and given them claws. Now he was seeing them wherever he looked.

“Don’t argue with him,” Jenna warned. “He’s ill.” She stepped down from her station. In the background, the proximity alarm was sounding like the frenzied heartbeat of the ship. “Avon, release the helm. We’ll talk.”

She was nearly at his side when it happened. His eyes became empty, coupled with a sudden pallor to his skin as though the blood had drained away. Even his lips were barely visible. He crumpled where he stood, falling to the floor like a rag doll. He lay as still as a corpse, the slight rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was breathing.

And still Restless rolled on towards them.

Jenna grabbed him, shook him, tried to get any response. 

“What’s going on?” asked Vila.

“Get me a vial of shadow from that crate!” He hesitated. Jenna had to shout at him to bring him out of his stupor. “Now, Vila, or we’re all dead!”

He ran like his life depended on it. With Soolin’s help, she managed to get Avon upright into a sitting position. The other woman asked no questions and Jenna was grateful for it. There would be time later.

Vila scurried in and slid to a halt beside her, vial in his hand. Blood reddened her fingers as she pinched Avon’s nose and slopped a little of the liquid in his mouth. With her hand holding his jaw shut, she held him as he fought to breathe and finally had to swallow. The last went in his mouth when she allowed him to take a shuddering gasp. 

The colour started to return to his cheeks. All around them, the alarms continued to wail. Readouts reported that the distance to collision had reduced from spacials to yards. Avon’s eyelids finally fluttered open and he tried to focus on her.

“Release the ship,” she insisted.

He looked blank, as though he was having trouble understanding.

“Restless, Avon. It’s coming.”

His gaze drifted to the screen. Seeing it for himself galvanised him into action. Jenna helped him up and propped him against the console. Slower this time, he entered the command. The main drive roared into life. Restless was two hundred yards and closing.

“Jenna!” Vila hollered.

“I’ve got it,” she returned. 

One hundred yards. The ship was cold and sluggish. She fought to bring it back to life, coaxing it out of the way of the oncoming ball of pitted rock. 

Fifty yards. The rear of the ship was trailing. A strike to the back would break them in half.

“Just a little more,” she whispered. “Don’t give up on me now!”

Forty. Thirty. Twenty. Ten. 

The ship slowly gathered up speed and slid out of danger.

Restless thundered by, showering the hull with rocks and ice.

Soolin sighed with relief. Vila puffed out his cheeks. Course set for Earth, Jenna activated the automatics and released the controls.

Avon pushed himself off the console and unsteadily made his way out. Vila started after him, stopping when saw Jenna shake her head.

“Shadow?” he queried when Avon was gone.

“The Terra Nostra did it to him. They forced him to work for them.”

Vila had the decency look appalled. Soolin took a more practical approach to the situation.

“Was there any truth in what he said about you?”

Jenna deflected the question. She was tired of defending herself. “Avon thinks you were sent to kill us. Was there any truth in that?”

She gave a sardonic snort. “You’d be dead if we were.”

“True,” Vila confirmed. He continued to look wistfully in the direction Avon had gone. “He’s dying, isn’t he?”

Jenna nodded. “I don’t think he’s going make it back to Earth. If he doesn’t kill us first.”

“So much for Avon thinking he could make a deal with the Terra Nostra,” Soolin remarked.

“Some deal,” Vila scoffed. “They took his mind and gave him back his hand.”

“What?” Jenna said, confused.

“His hand.” He leaned against her station. “It didn’t heal properly after what happened on... you know. Gauda Prime.” He had lowered his voice. “Don’t you remember? He kept doing that thing, flexing his fingers all the time.”

She thought back to the first time she had seen him on the _Libra_. Sitting on a plush couch in a gaudy interior, reproaching, threatening, opening and closing his hand as if to ease some deep muscle pain. She thought too of the last time she had seen him, stripped and vulnerable, awaiting mutoidisation, with that same movement of the fingers.

Cold washed through her. Her eyes hurt like they were taking in more light than was necessary. Her mind felt like it was stuttering to a halt. 

“Vila, don’t ever mention that to him,” she said when her thoughts had finally caught up. Inevitably he asked why. She swallowed hard. “Because... I think Soolin did shoot the real Avon.”

* * * * * * *

Watching from a window on the rambling ramshackle complex on Restless, a young man with centre-parted blond hair saw the ship pull itself out of the asteroid’s hurtling trajectory and speed away. A crowd had been drawn when first it had been sighted, cutting across their path, only to lose power and drift, seemingly helpless until at the final moment when it managed to escape a brutal death. Their entertainment gone, the curious drifted away, but the man remained, still watching as the ship became a diminishing light amongst distant stars.

Satisfied, he took a communicator out of his pocket and activated it. People passing pretended not to notice. Criminals eyed the gold on his fingers and gave him a wide berth. His Terra Nostra credentials rendered him invisible.

“It is done, Chairman,” he said into the device.

The voice of an older man answered. “Excellent, Larris. Did it go to plan?”

“Better than expected. We managed to find two of their number to facilitate the deal.”

A wheezy chuckle sounded. “A nice touch.”

“Thanks to Largo’s inventive use of controlled particle emission, we will be able to follow Kerr Avon everywhere he goes.”

“He will go to Earth. You may tell Avalon to proceed with the final phase.”

“It will be done. You may depend on me.”

“Oh, I always do. You shall be rewarded... my boy.”

Larris smiled into the communicator. It would be paid, he knew, in the absolute faith the old man placed in him. As his health failed him, his grandchildren had waged their own war over the right to be his favoured deputy. In the end, they had all failed, because they had expected it and had not bothered to earn it. 

His favour had instead been bestowed upon an untried and untested stranger who he had plucked from obscurity. He had encouraged him in good habits, a bloody nature and unquestioning loyalty. He had allowed him to emulate his every move, even permitting him to conduct the interview with the criminal, Kerr Avon, to add veracity to their story, so that when the time came, he would spend his last days righting what he believed to be an old wrong. 

The old man also had taught him the greatest lesson of all, that no one was to be trusted. It had been chance that had informed him of the reason for the Chairman’s interest, when he had come across an image of Vos as a younger man, with an uncanny resemblance to his protege. The realisation had come that he was being groomed, not as his heir, but as his body replacement.

Since then, armed with this knowledge, Larris had been waiting.

Because one day, very soon, after Roj Blake was dead, after Sleer was gone, after Kerr Avon had done their bidding, after Avalon was in charge and protecting their interests, the old man would find himself dying without his Lazarus drug to hand. 

The killer would become the killed. And then Larris would take his rightful place as the new Chairman of the Terra Nostra. Because no one was meant to live forever.


	7. The Way Home

**Chapter Seven**

His hands were shaking again.

Tarrant clenched his fingers into a fist and concentrated instead on the young woman running her hands over the smooth door frame, seeking a way out of their cell. She would be disappointed, he knew. It was flawless, much like herself.

He let his eyes rest upon her. Slim, attractive, with wide intelligent eyes and bone structure that reminded him of silk over a glass. She was utterly desirable. In the years he had known her, he had watched her transform. Physically, as her angular frame had filled out with the curves of womanhood, and mentally, shedding that slight awkwardness he remembered whenever she had looked at him to become someone with the confidence of a person a decade older. For all they had been through, she still possessed the exuberance of youth and unfailing optimism. He envied her that. When she told him everything would be all right, he found himself believing.

It was reassurance he needed now. They had been in Earth Sector, dodging patrols in an increasingly paranoid universe where checks and double checks were required for routine transports. He had told her he would get her to Earth and he had meant it. Achieving it had proved impossible. 

They had been on Mars applying for fake entry visas when the ships rolled in. Everyone at the transit complex had been rounded up and, Tarrant guessed, were currently being processed. They taken on assumed identities; it had been Dayna’s choice to give them the last name of Chevron. Sentimental perhaps, but fitting somehow. It was only a matter of time before it was discovered who they really were. The fear of what would happen next was gnawing away at his insides, not for himself, but for her.

As if sensing his thoughts, she turned, caught him looking and smiled. The traces of the girl she had been lingered in that smile, warming his heart. He held out his hand to her and she came to sit beside him. She wrapped her arms about his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured to her.

“For what?” she gently chided him.

“We were close.”

“We’ll get there.” When he was slow to answer, she sat up and looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t give up on me now.”

“I wasn’t. I don’t know who these people are, Dayna. If they are rebels, you might stand a chance.”

“You too.”

He forced a tight smile. “I’m ex-Federation. Who trusts me?”

“I do, silly.” She took her hands in his and started rubbing them, soothing away the trembling. “I’m Hal Mellanby’s daughter, Tarrant. That counts for something. If there’s any question, I’ll speak for you.”

“I know you will.” He wished he could believe it. She would not like what he had to say to her. “Dayna, if you get the chance to escape,” he began.

“No,” she said firmly. “Together or not at all.”

“Listen to me,” he insisted. “If you can get away, go and don’t look back. I’ll be all right.”

It hurt to see the sadness he had brought to her eyes. She clung to him, so tightly that he thought his ribs must succumb under the pressure. She was still holding him when the door opened and several rough-looking men clad in dirty, battle-stained clothes entered, all carrying weapons.

“You,” said one of them, pointing his gun in his direction. “Del Tarrant, get up.”

So they knew who they were, Tarrant thought. It had not taken them long.

“Where are you taking him?” Dayna demanded, placing herself before him. “I want to see whoever is in charge!”

“You will,” grunted the soldier. “Him first.”

Pushing her out of the way, he grabbed Tarrant by the arm and hauled him out. Frog-marched along the corridor with the soldier clipping his heels, he was manhandled into a room and forced down onto a chair. The base commander’s former office from the look of it, complete with desk and an empty weapons rack set against the wall. The odds were stacking in favour of these men being rebels.

His guards stepped back and took up position by the door. Left stranded in the middle of the room, shaking like a frightened child, he felt more vulnerable than ever before in his life. It was an alien feeling, like the illness that was chipping away at his sense of self-worth, with the sensation of metal being scraped over his raw nerve endings his constant torturous companion. He tried to imagine what the Tarrant who had encountered the _Liberator_ would have done in this situation. Something foolish and reckless, he thought. Much more of this and he would end up like Vila, frightened of his own shadow. It was enough to make him laugh.

Out in the corridor, the deep tones of a male voice could be heard in conversation. He turned slightly as the door swept back and an imposing figure in a leather jerkin and rumpled trousers, stained red at the knees from the iron-rich soil of Mars, entered the room. Below the tangle of curls, an old scar run down the side of his face, half closing his eye. 

Dismissing the guards, Blake came round in front of him. He stood in silence, surveying him critically. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

Tarrant grimaced slightly. “I got involved in other people’s battles.”

Blake gave a short grunt of laughter before perching on the edge of the desk. “The last I remember, Tarrant, was you telling Avon that I had sold him out.”

“That was the impression I got.”

“You were wrong.”

“You pointed a gun at me.”

“It was a test.”

“Did I pass?”

Blake gave him a well-worn smile. “Does it matter?”

“That depends on what I’m doing here.”

“Ah, yes.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not a vindictive man, Tarrant.”

“Jenna might disagree with that.”

He watched Blake closely for a reaction. The man seemed unmoved. Was that the slightest tightening around his eyes or was it his imagination?

“She was a traitor,” Blake said flatly. “She deserved what she got.”

“And Avon?” he ventured.

“Was mistaken.”

“That’s all?”

Blake drew a long breath. “I can’t change what happened. That mistake has left me with a hole in my stomach and an artificial gut. From what I hear, that’s something we share now.”

“I saw what they did to him,” Tarrant threw back at him. “Far worse than what he did to you.”

“I saw the vistape too,” he said unconcernedly. “In any war, sacrifices have to be made. It’s a pity. Avon had a keen mind.”

Tarrant snorted with contempt. “Avon, Jenna... Gan.” Blake did not flinch. “My turn now, is it?”

“I never waste people,” came the reply. “As for you, Earth is within striking distance. I need a good pilot to get me there. What do you say?”

He stared hard at him. “Why me?”

“Your credentials are impeccable. And then there’s this.”

Blake got up and went round to the other side of the desk. He tapped a few buttons on the console before turning the screen for Tarrant to see an image of Hal Mellanby in happier days with his wife and a child in his arms. 

“The girl. Mellanby’s daughter, so I understand. I knew him. Well, I knew of him. I believed the rumours at the time, but lies and falsehoods have always been the Federation’s speciality.”

“Leave her out of this,” he grated. “Whatever grudge you have against me–”

“No grudge, Tarrant. Avon trusted you. That counts for something. Avon never trusted anyone without good reason. If you want to work with me, then I can help you. If not...” He thrust his thumbs in his belt. “Then I give you both to the Federation. Crippled they may be, but I’m sure they’ll find the time to deal with a renegade officer and the daughter of a traitor.”

“Me, I can understand, but why Dayna? What has she ever done to you?”

Blake shrugged. “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust her either. Where do her loyalties lie? Will she believe you or will she believe me?”

“It appears I have very little choice.”

“Good. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nerve damage. A parting gift from Gauda Prime.”

“Oh, we’ve all got those.” Blake activated the communicator on the console. “Dane, neural stabilisers, I need them now.” He closed the channel as the person on the other end started to protest. “Get me to Earth and your record is clear. You and Dayna can stay or go as you please.”

“You’re offering us a place in your ‘brave new world’?”

Blake considered. “That depends on you. Law and justice matters. Those who want to reform will be welcome. For others, like you and Vila, a choice will have to be made. There can be no exceptions.”

“Having run with criminals for so long, you need to distance yourself. Respectability comes at price.”

“As long as you understand.” Their conversation was interrupted when a short, wiry man entered hurriedly carrying a medical case. “I’ll leave you in Dane’s capable hands,” Blake said, starting for the door. “Once you’ve recovered, we can discuss plans for getting to Earth.”

“I want to see Dayna.”

“I’ll see that she is freed.” Blake paused at the threshold. “Tarrant? Don’t ever mention Avon’s name again. As far as I’m concerned, he never existed.”

“He searched for you,” Tarrant said accusingly. “We lost the _Liberator_ looking for you.”

“I lost a lot more,” Blake retorted severely. “I lost a friend.” Tarrant dropped his gaze. “Rest and we’ll talk later.”

And with that, he was gone.


	8. Rebel Run

**Chapter Eight**

Yawning as she entered the flight deck, Jenna found Vila waiting for her. He had woken her from an uneasy sleep to tell her they were entering Earth Sector. On the main viewer, the navigational computers were showing a course that skirted Saturn and onwards to Earth, crossing the wastelands of the asteroid belt that divided the solar system. The prospect of going home held no joy for her. The last time they had been to Earth, they had left one member of the _Liberator_ behind.

“Thanks, Vila, I’ll take over,” she said. 

He vacated her seat. Jupiter, with its immense gravitational pull, needed careful piloting to avoid the ship being dragged into the rolling mass of space debris that the planet deflected from Earth.

“Have you told Avon?” Vila looked uneasy. She took that to mean he had not. “Avon,” she said into the intercom. “Earth Sector.”

She left it at that. Since leaving Restless, Avon had kept to his cabin. To an extent, that had suited all of them. Seeing him, wondering about him, not knowing he was, all of her doubts made him an uncomfortable presence on the flight deck. If he was angry that his secret had been exposed, he had said nothing to her. He had avoided all of them; it felt as though the process had begun for the day when he was no longer there.

And then there was Vila, looking ashen-faced and sullen, haunting the ship like a baleful ghost. Splitting the shifts with Soolin, it had been difficult to find a time when she could speak to him on his own.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

Vila gave a non-committal shrug.

“Avon’s not in his right mind.”

“It’s all right, Jenna, I’m not a fool.” There had been a change in him since the confrontation. He seemed weary, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, slowly crushing the spirit out of the old Vila she knew. “I’ve always known that Avon wouldn’t have done that for me. It was nice to think...” 

He trailed off. She finished for him.

“That he would?” She sighed. “Don’t pay too much attention to anything he says. He’s angry, Vila. Angry that he got it wrong, I should say. He knew when he walked into Grandeer that something was going to happen. He didn’t know what. There’s a difference between wanting to die and having someone make that choice for you.”

“He’s not suicidal,” Vila scoffed.

“No?” She gave him a dubious look. “Don’t you think he was serious about wanting to crash us into that asteroid?”

“He mistimed it. You said yourself he left it too late to take his dose.”

“Hmm. There’s quicker ways to die than by shadow.”

“He won’t go yet,” said Vila. “He wants answers.”

“That depends what he’s looking for on Earth.”

Too late, she realised that they were no longer alone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark shape that had materialised in the doorway and cleared her throat to warn Vila. Aware he had been discovered, Avon left his vantage point and came over to join them.

“I’m looking for Orac, since you’re asking,” he said. 

“What makes you think he’s on Earth?” asked Vila.

“Because Servalan is.”

“What makes you so certain?” Jenna challenged him.

“The Federation has been consolidating its forces on Earth. They are drawing the rebels in for a final assault. Simple really, you get them to come to you and then you wipe them out.”

“They’re walking into a trap.”

“For some.” His teeth flashed in a feral smile. “Avalon will prevail. The Terra Nostra will see to that.” His eyes narrowed. “Ensor created Orac to destroy the Federation. If it has been advising Servalan, then it is close to fulfilling its creator’s original intent. Once the Federation is gone, what role does it play then?”

“Orac takes over where the Federation left off?” Vila suggested. “He could just blow up and die, have you considered that?”

Avon gave him a dismissive glance. “Orac is capable of learning. It has evolved. It is skilled at manipulation. It is too dangerous to be left in the hands of the Terra Nostra.” He brushed imaginary dust from his hands. Stalling, Jenna thought, before telling them the real reason. “And I don’t like being outwitted by a machine.”

She smiled. “Now you’re sounding more like your old self.”

“I still don’t trust you.” That hard look was back in his eyes. “Any of you.”

“Well, don’t do anything too hasty,” said Vila. “Orac might be able to help with your... _you know_.”

“Addiction?” 

His harsh tone made the colour rise to Vila’s cheeks. He looked embarrassed.

“I’m not hopeful,” said Avon, his voice softer this time. “My physical tolerance has risen again.”

“How often?” asked Jenna.

“Every three hours.”

She caught her breath. “That’s too much.”

“At this point, it’s all that’s keeping me going.” He let the thought lie. “How long till we get to Earth?”

A constant rapping on the ship’s hull betrayed their location on the edge of the asteroid belt. The great swirling red eye of Jupiter kept them under observation as the ship sped on. Beyond, the planets of the inner solar system were diminutive by comparison.

“That’s odd,” said Jenna, consulting the forward detectors. “There’s a fleet of ships in orbit around Mars.”

“Aliens?” Vila queried.

“No.” She tapped her finger on her screen and considered. “The formation is wrong for Federation forces. Rebels? About to attack Earth?”

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Don’t tell me we’re leading the charge again?”

“I’d prefer to slip by unnoticed.”

No one spoke as Mars came into view, a scattering of ships visible through the russet haze. Jenna kept going, one eye on the red planet, the other on the detectors. As the screen slid from red to star-studded black, Vila patted her arm.

“Well done, Jenna,” he breathed.

No sooner had he said it than the communicator light came on. Someone was hailing them. Jenna hesitated a fraction before opening the channel.

“Earth Sector is under the control of Resistance forces,” came an officious voice. “Identify yourselves and state your purpose.”

“Me and my big mouth,” said Vila. “What are we going to do now?”

“Get Soolin,” said Avon. “Jenna and I are supposed to be dead, and we can’t risk that anyone on that ship knows your voice.”

“Why me?” he protested. “She gets grumpy if you disturb her when she sleeping.”

“Really.” 

Avon sounded sceptical. Vila squirmed beneath his disapproval. 

“We’re just friends.”

“Really.”

“Well, you know what Soolin is like.”

“Just go and get her,” Jenna said.

Vila ran off. The other ship tried to contact them again. On the screen, a single ship had peeled away from the others and was heading in their direction. Jenna glanced at Avon, standing at her side, intent on the approaching vessel.

“We can’t withstand a sustained attack,” she said. “If a bluff doesn’t work, do we surrender?”

Avon cast her a dull look. “Didn’t you say I was the one with the death wish?”

“Wonderful. Let’s hope Soolin can convince them.”

On cue, Soolin came running in, hair loose and bare-footed. Vila trailed behind her, clutching his arm in mock agony. If they got away alive, his suffering would not have been in vain.

“What are we calling ourselves?” asked Soolin when Jenna had explained the situation.

“The _Ortega_ ,” said Vila. He pulled a face. “I couldn’t think of anything else when I filed the registration.”

“You couldn’t have made it more obvious?” Avon said critically.

“Who’s going to remember? Only Blake, and what’s the odds of him being over there?” 

“ _Ortega_ it is,” Soolin said. “Well, here goes.”

* * * * * *

On the flight deck of the light cruiser, Tarrant was watching the transporter on the screen. There had been something about it that had felt wrong. The attempt to evade them, the time it took to get a reply – and when the woman finally answered, he knew her voice immediately. 

He said nothing while the others debated whether to let it pass. Allegedly, it was carrying harvested ice water, essential supplies intended for the domes, according to the manifest. Whatever Soolin was doing this close to Earth, he had no intention of giving her identity away. When they gave the _Ortega_ clearance, he tried not to let his relief show. 

Other ships had not been so lucky. Suspected Federation ships were being boarded and their crews taken prisoner. Those that tried to run were destroyed.

With the _Ortega_ Earth-bound, he turned the ship back towards Mars. He kept his head down when Blake came onto the flight deck, followed by Avalon and Dayna. To Tarrant’s consternation, she was being pulled into sphere. Beguiled with stories of her father and Blake’s respect for the man, she was spending more time in his company. For someone whose loyalty he had doubted, Blake appeared content to include her in his plans. Another name to rally the faithful, Tarrant supposed. But if Dayna was happy with her new role, he was less so. It seemed to him that she was being humoured and used.

She parted from the group when she saw him and came over to plant an affectionate kiss on his cheek. “I haven’t seen you all day,” she said. “Busy?”

“Oh, nothing exciting,” he replied, offering her an encouraging smile. “What about you?”

“Blake says there might be a position for me in the new governing body.”

Tarrant suppressed a sigh. He was tired of hearing what Blake said and thought.

“That might be premature,” he said. “We haven’t got to Earth yet.”

Her face fell. “What’s wrong? Blake says we can’t lose, not this time.”

“That’s what Avon said, every time. Or have you forgotten?” He lowered his voice. “Dayna, just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Blake,” she called to him playfully. “Tarrant has his doubts.”

“Does he? Well, he’s wise.” He laid a hand possessively on Dayna’s shoulder. “When you get too confident, that’s when you make mistakes. Isn’t that right, Tarrant?” 

His visible eye twinkled, as if daring him to disagree. Tarrant let it pass. 

“We broke orbit again,” Blake said gruffly. “What was it this time?”

“Civilian freighter,” said Tarrant. “We let them through.”

Blake nodded. “Name?”

“The _Ortega_.”

His expression froze. “Stop them.”

“What’s wrong?” Dayna asked.

“I know them.” He gave a rueful grin. “Former friends of mine, you might say. Who were they, Tarrant?”

He shrugged. “It was a woman. I didn’t recognise her.”

“Replay the communication!” Blake barked. “Dayna, who is it?”

The message played again.

“Soolin,” she said, smiling. “It’s Soolin. She must have Vila with her.”

“Well, well, isn’t that interesting.” Blake brought his face up close to Tarrant’s. “Something you forgot to mention?”

“Let them go,” Tarrant insisted.

“Why?” said Dayna. “They will join us.”

In that moment, he realised he had lost her. 

“Step down,” said Blake. He signalled for another man to take Tarrant’s place. “Confine this man to his cabin. In the meantime, stop that ship. If they run, kill them.”


	9. Jenna

**Chapter Nine**

“He’s there, Blake.”

Avalon, like a devil on his shoulder, whispering in his ear things that she could not possibly know and everything he wanted to hear. There had been rumours, mainly from Avalon herself, that the Terra Nostra had played the Federation false and the Avon subjected to mutoidisation had been a substitute. It was a persuasive argument. The financial turmoil that had swept through the federated worlds and stretched the Federation’s resources to breaking point had a touch of genius about it. It had not required battles, ships, or devoted followers; instead it had been a war waged through machines. Avon would have appreciated that.

If Avalon was right, Avon was on that fleeing cargo ship, with a name that only a handful of people in the galaxy would have any cause to remember. Was it an invitation, he wondered, or a warning to keep his distance? Either way, he was going. He need to know.

“We can use him,” Avalon was insisting. “As our prisoner, we will make him work for us.”

Blake gave a grunt of mirthless laughter. “You don’t know Avon very well. If there’s nothing in it for him, he won’t co-operate.”

“Even for his life?”

“That least of all. Kill him and you lose your advantage. He knows that.”

“For you then. He owes you, Blake.”

“No,” he said heavily. “Avon won’t see it that way, not any more.”

“There might be a way to persuade him.”

He had been staring at the battered ship, rubbing his finger thoughtfully along his lips. His thoughts had been drifting to the past, of times good, bad and often deadly. If Avon ever thought of those days in the same terms, he might be able to reach him. He would not be requesting or offering forgiveness; all he wanted was his help.

And yet in Avalon’s words, he thought he read a deeper meaning. She had a good instinct – perhaps too good if he analysed it. In a galaxy of millions, that their lives should touch again seemed impossible. Against that, it was widely known that the Federation was on its knees. If Avon was searching for him, where better to look than Earth? He would have been easy to find.

“What do you mean?” he asked, throwing Avalon a glance.

“If Avon is as stubborn as you say, the Terra Nostra have ways of overcoming that,” she said. “So I’ve heard.”

“Avon would never have broken.” He injected his words with as much scepticism as he could muster. 

“Everyone does eventually.” She came to stand in front of him. Determined, fierce and utterly devoted to the cause of freedom, Blake saw a shadow of himself in what she was suggesting. On one level, it disgusted him. On another, it made perfect sense. “If they let him go, it would have been with a means of controlling him. We find out what it is and use it against him.”

The better side of his nature won the day. “No. He comes with us willingly or not at all.”

“He’s too dangerous to be allowed to run free!” 

Avalon’s eyes were blazing. There were times, Blake reflected, that her depth of passion bordered on the maniacal. He could attribute it to the years of running and legions of frustrated plans. With Earth within their reach, he could understand her not wanting anything to stand in their way. What she was suggesting, however, was unconscionable.

“Control him,” Avalon asserted, “or kill him. There is no other way.”

He held her gaze, wondering if she realised what she was asking him to do. Whatever the cost, she was saying. That someone with the best of intentions could be contemplating such a thing went a long way to explaining how good people slid into corruption.

“Let’s see if he’s there first,” he said firmly. “Then we’ll decide. Contact the _Ortega_ again.”

* * * * * * *

“You and that damned name!”

In the space between Mars and Earth, there was nowhere to hide. The detectors had lit up like party night at Space City when the departing ship had suddenly turned and started after them. Then came the messages: stop or die. Cursing Vila had been the first thing that came to Jenna’s mind.

There was time, she told herself. The ship was running at Time Distort 8 with extra to spare. They would make Earth before the pursuing ship caught up with them, but only if they did not make good on their threat not to send a plasma bolt in their direction. Against that, orbiting Earth were defending Federation forces presenting a formidable blockade. Trying to run it under these conditions would see them shot down before they touched the atmosphere.

“It’s not my fault!” Vila was protesting. “Anything could have made them suspicious!”

“Let’s hope so,” Soolin said. “If it is the name, that means Blake is on that other ship.”

“We’ll make it. We’ve got the best pilot in the galaxy.” Vila looked hopefully at Jenna. “Right?”

His voice sounded distant. Experience was telling her that they were facing a desperate situation. On their current course, there was only one way it would end.

“We can’t run,” she said. “We’ve got no choice. We have to stop.”

“What?” Vila yelled. “Stop? Are you serious?”

“We run, we all die,” Jenna stated. “If we stop, you and Soolin might have a chance.”

“What about you?” Vila said.

Jenna hesitated. The reality was that not all of them were going to make it. She glanced across at Avon. He was studiously ignoring her, staring at the incoming ship on the viewscreen with an inscrutable expression on his face.

Soolin answered for her. “Blake wants her dead. For all we know, he might want Avon dead too.” She folded her arms. “He doesn’t know me. How does he feel about you, Vila?”

“We always got on,” he answered her uncertainly. His eyes rolled as he checked his memory. “I think.”

“Then the solution is obvious,” said Soolin. “Vila and I will say we’re here alone. Avon and Jenna can hide.”

“I will not hide.” Avon dragged himself out of his quiet introspection. “Avalon will not let Blake take any action against me. Blake is Jenna’s protection against Avalon. We will be safe.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” said Jenna. “I only have your word about Blake’s motives.”

“Would you prefer to take your chances against the Federation?” A supercilious smile lit his features when she did not answer. “Well then, Blake it is. Soolin, see what he wants.”

A familiar voice came across the open channel.

“ _Ortega_ , this is Roj Blake.”

“This is the _Ortega_ ,” Soolin replied. “What’s the problem? You gave us clearance.”

“I have a friend of yours with me, Dayna Mellanby. She seems to think Vila might be with you. I want to speak to him.”

The blood drained from Vila’s face. He looked like he was about to pass out.

“Answer the man,” Soolin urged.

His fingers were trembling so much he missed the button. “Hello, Blake. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Where are you going, Vila?”

He gulped. “Earth. We heard you were heading that way. We wondered... if we could help.”

“We certainly need all the help we can get,” said Blake. “Who else is with you?”

Vila glanced at Avon and Jenna and made a desperate appeal for suggestions. Avon shook his head. 

“No one,” Vila replied. “It’s just us two.”

“Then you won’t mind me coming on board, will you? Decrease your speed.”

The roar of the main drives faded to a background hum. The incoming ship kept coming. At her station, Jenna was struggling to breathe. It felt as though someone was choking her. The more she fought it, the faster her heart started to race. Shadows were chipping away at the edges of her vision, and suddenly she was back in the cave, bleeding on the floor, as Blake walked away leaving her in darkness.

The touch of a hand closing on hers made her open her eyes to find Vila at her side. 

“It’ll be all right,” he said encouragingly.

“No, it won’t,” she returned. “I can’t do this. I can’t be here when he arrives.”

She stepped down and was almost out of the flight deck when Avon’s voice stopped her.

“When they threaten to destroy the ship, shall we tell them where you are hiding?”

Jenna stayed where she was. He was right, of course. There were only so many hiding places on a ship like this. It was only delaying the inevitable

Drawing nearer by the second, Blake’s ship was soon matching vectors and coming alongside. The _Ortega_ shuddered as a transfer tube locked into place. Soolin went to the airlock to meet him, leaving them alone. No one spoke. In the heavy silence, the tension was palpable. Vila was sweating and Avon was wandering, distracting himself with an inspection of his palms. At the sound of people approaching, Jenna pressed herself into the sheltering shadows that hemmed the flight deck.

It was Blake who entered first. Avon, framed against the watery rays of the distant sun in a starlit sky, came to a halt. For the longest time, they regarded each other, both expecting anger, neither finding it in the other. No recriminations, no raised words, rather a sense of picking up on an interrupted conversation. Time had altered them physically, touching Blake’s curls with grey and etching deeper lines in Avon’s face. The question of what else had changed had yet to be answered.

Blake made the first move, approaching to stop just out of reach. “Avon,” he said. “So the rumours were true.”

A rueful smile came to his lips. “Death isn’t what it used to be.”

“Except this time, I’m the one holding the gun.”

“So you are.” Avon’s eyes flickered down to the barrel of the weapon levelled at his stomach. “Hesitation, I’m told, can be fatal. What’s stopping you?”

Blake conceded with an inclination of his head. “As it happens, I need your skills, if you are willing.”

“As it happens, I’m not. What now?”

“Then they will shoot you dead. Unlike me, they won’t hesitate.” The gathering of armed rebels who had accompanied him with Avalon at their head touched their weapons in anticipation. “What do you say?”

Avon regarded him coolly. “No. I will not be caged and dragged out to perform tricks for your amusement.”

Avalon started forward. Blake waved her back. “Then what do you want?”

He took his time. “Passage to Earth.”

“It just so happens I’m heading that way myself.” Blake stowed his weapon back in his belt. “Why Earth?”

“There is something I need to retrieve.”

“Orac?” Blake smiled at Avon’s annoyance that his attempt at being elusive had failed. “Considering you lost it in the first place, I’d say it’s the least you could do. All right. Truce.”

“Does that apply to your loyal rabble?” Avon nodded at Avalon and the rest of his followers.

“They will do as I say. If I don’t have a problem with you joining us, they will accept it. Unless you give them reason to believe otherwise.” He turned to them. “Avon is joining us. He is not to be harmed. Do you understand me?”

“We understand,” said Avalon, coming over to join them. “Hello, Avon.” He remained impassive. “No hard feelings, I hope.”

“Many.”

“Then it’s a pity you can’t do anything about it.”

Avon’s eyes narrowed as he dismissed her with a glance. “What about them?”

“Vila is always welcome and–” He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of her, shrouded in the gloom. “Jenna!”

She shrank back at his approach until she found herself in a corner with nowhere left to go.

“Why didn’t you die?” he demanded, so close that the warmth of his breath grazed her ear.

She raised her chin. There would be no help from the others. Vila was hovering, wanting to say something but holding back, while Avon was observing with detached interest.

“I don’t take orders from you,” she said defiantly.

“Then you’re no use to me.” 

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along with him. When she stumbled, he left her fall. Avalon pounced, taking a handful of her hair and yanking her head back to press her weapon to her temple. Another of the rebels bound her hands in front of her and left her kneeling at Blake’s feet, awaiting her fate. She stared up at him, refusing to let him see what it was costing her to keep her emotions under control.

Watching with consternation, Vila finally found his voice. “Blake, Jenna isn’t–”

“She’s Federation,” he shouted him down.

“Not for much longer,” said Avalon, squeezing her finger on the trigger.

“No,” Blake said sternly. “Leave her to me.”

“We tried it your way.”

He took out his gun. “This time, I won’t miss.”

“Blake, this is wrong,” Vila protested, hurrying over to him. “Jenna’s always been on our side.”

“She’s always been with us,” he returned. “That’s not the same thing. Now, Vila, what about you? Are you with us?”

“Not if you’re going to kill her.”

“Then you die too,” Avalon snarled.

Faced with a weapon pointed at his head, Vila’s nerve started to fail him. “Blake, you can’t kill her. It’s... it’s Jenna.”

“She won’t be the first Federation agent I’ve killed,” he said.

“Or perhaps you’re one too,” Avalon accused. “Yes, that would make sense. Let me kill him, Blake.”

Vila quailed. “Me? I’m just an honest thief. That’s all I’ve ever been!”

“Tell him, Jenna,” said Avon. “Tell him the truth.”

She knew what he wanted her to say. Vila always had the worst timing. A lie to save a friend. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do.

“I’m Federation. I always have been.”

Vila’s face fell. “I don’t believe it. Why?” He was growing angry. She had never seen him roused like this before. “Why did you do it?”

She could not meet his eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

He turned away, hurt and confused. “I’ll help you, Blake. As for Jenna...”

“I understand,” he said consolingly. “She fooled all of us.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “Go with Avon and Avalon. I’ll join you in a minute.”

“What are you waiting for?” said Avalon. “Kill her and let’s go.”

“There’s something I have to do first.”

“Need help?”

Blake shook his head. “I’d rather do it alone. For old times’ sake.”

With a final glance at Jenna, Avalon stalked away. As the flight deck emptied, Avon followed them, not looking back, until only Blake and Vila remained.

“Go, Vila,” Blake urged. “You don’t want to see this.”

Vila nodded, still in shock, his expression pinched. “I trusted you, Jenna. All those years, I thought we were friends.”

She kept her head up, her eyes fixed on Blake. He was giving nothing away. “I have no friends, least of all you.”

Reluctantly, Vila turned to go. He stopped, as if trying to find words that would not come, and then with head bowed, he went on his way. 

“Thank you,” said Blake, checking to make sure he had gone. “Avalon would have killed him.”

“I got that impression.” She held his gaze. “She’s Terra Nostra, Blake.”

“I thought she might be.” A small chuckle escaped him. “Funny to think all those years ago, we went to them trying to buy their help. Well, we’ve got it now.”

“Once they have what they want, they will kill you.”

“Yes.” She watched as he checked the energy level in his weapon. “What am I going to do with you, Jenna?”

She swallowed hard. “Something that doesn’t require witnesses, apparently.”

He raised his gun, aimed at a point to the left of her head and pulled the trigger. “In case they are listening.” He offered her his hand and helped her up. “I’m sorry for what I did to you on Kaliferon. Your appearance took me by surprise. I didn’t know how else to protect you.”

“Stabbing me was the best you could do?”

“I gave you a chance. That’s more than what Avalon would have done.”

“It hurt, Blake. And I don’t just mean the injury.”

“I know. The truth is, I would rather that you hated me and survived than that I should have your death on my conscience.” 

He set about unpicking the rope around her wrists. The blood rushed back, leaving her fingers smarting with pins and needles. He took her hands in his and gently rubbed the ache away.

It was too much. She pulled her hand away. “Avon says you aren’t Blake.”

“How would he know?”

“He was a prisoner of the Terra Nostra. They told him things, if you can believe them.”

“About me?”

She nodded. “They said you were his clone. That Blake’s mind was put in your body.” She paused. “Is that true?”

His reaction was not what she had been expecting. Not surprise or immediate denial, but rather more thoughtful. He rubbed at his neck, considering. 

“It might be, Jenna, I can’t be sure. I know something is different. When I call up a memory, it’s like I’m an observer. It’s artificial, somehow. I feel like my past is something that happened to another person.”

“That must be unsettling for you.”

He shook his head. “My convictions remain the same. I know our cause is just. Even if it is true, I have to do what Blake would have wanted. I have no other frame of reference. We have to win. I also know he would have wanted you to live.” He turned back to face her, his expression tinged with regret. “I can’t take you with me, Jenna. It’s time for you to leave.”

“That might be difficult.”

“It has to end for you here. I’d rather not risk a plasma bolt.”

She nodded. “An overload on the main drives should do it. That should create a convincing explosion. The sub-light drives won’t be affected.”

“Good.” He reached up and brushed the tousled hair from her face. Tears had made her eyes glassy. “Don’t get upset. You know, if things had been different, another time, another place–”

She put her finger on his lips. “Don’t. If what Avon said is true, then there’s someone waiting for you to return. That person isn’t me. The Blake I knew is dead. The Federation took his sanity and his life. Destroy them if you can, but don’t let them take everything from you. Find out who you are. Go back to her. Promise me that.”

“I will, Jenna. I will.”

On impulse, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She did not protest, but rested in his embrace and closed her eyes, revelling in the feel of him, the scent of him, the strong arms around her, trying to imprint every last sensation on her memory. Then he released her and the moment was gone forever.

“I have to go now,” he said, starting for the door. “I’ll tell Vila the truth when this is all over.”

She offered him a rueful smile. “Better not. He might feel the need to come looking. That might be dangerous for him.”

“I understand.” He hesitated. “There is one thing. Avalon hinted that the Terra Nostra have a means of controlling Avon. I doubt he will tell me what it is. Do you know?”

“Shadow. If he doesn’t have it, he will die. I imagine Avalon will threaten to withhold it if he doesn’t co-operate.”

“I’ll see that she doesn’t. Well,” he said heavily, “they’ll be waiting for me. Goodbye, Jenna Stannis.”

“Goodbye, Roj Blake. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“You too. Go and don’t look back.”

* * * * * * *

On the viewscreen, the _Ortega_ was stalled and growing ever smaller. As soon as Blake had crossed back, his ship had disengaged and put distance between them. On the flight deck, Blake found Avon waiting for him. Indifferent to the glances being exchanged among the crew or the presence of an armed guard behind him, Avon threw him a listless glance. 

“Jenna?” he asked.

“Gone,” Blake confirmed.

Avalon positioned herself between them. “Did you get what you wanted?”

He took a deep breath, knowing she was studying his reaction. “She admitted we are walking into a trap. The Federation know we are coming.”

“We’re ready for them,” Avalon stated. She gestured to the screen. “What about her?”

“Dead. I killed her. I set charges on the ship.”

“You don’t mind if I check?” She called out to the helm. “Have the sensors registered any life signs on the _Ortega_?”

He smiled. “You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust her.” She glanced at Avon and lowered her voice. “I trust him even less. He brought something with him from that ship.”

“I thought he might. I’ll deal with it.” 

His gut clenched as the report came back that the _Ortega_ was devoid of life. He tried to calm his fears by telling himself that Jenna knew they would check. The refrigeration units were a good place to hide and conceal body temperature.

Then, suddenly on the screen, a blaze of brilliant blue licked the black of space from the rear of the _Ortega_ , dazzling to the eyes before leaving the star-flung heavens in perfect form once it had passed. The shock wave rocked the watchers, making them stagger. The crippled ship drifted, flashes of red and yellow illuminating what was left of the drives, left to wander under the momentum of the explosion.

Blake turned to find Avon’s eyes upon him, bright and speculative. He knew, of course he did.

“It’s over,” he confirmed. “Avon, come with me. There’s things we need to discuss.”


	10. Shockwave

**Chapter Ten**

There was something to be said for notoriety, Soolin reflected.

There were the little things, like always being able to get a seat in the dining room. People had a habit of getting up and leaving when she sat down. Sections of a room would clear when she entered. Pathways would open in the closest of crowds.

It had been disconcerting at first. Anonymity had offered protection. This was better, she had decided. She had respect. They were wary, and, if they were hostile, at least they kept their distance. 

The whispers were less welcome. They dogged her heels like anxious friends. One of Avon’s people, she heard them saying, with all the connotations that dubious distinction carried. A league of the disillusioned, the defeated, the drunk – and Dayna, who had swarmed to Blake’s cause with the frenzied enthusiasm of the zealot. The change in her had been quite remarkable. The unfinished girl Soolin had known had been replaced by a woman determined to continue her father’s legacy, seemingly at the expense of Tarrant, who had been left languishing in close confinement with a question mark hanging over his loyalties. 

From what Soolin had heard, that loyalty had been to what he thought had been the few remnants of ‘Avon’s people’. That choice had put him at odds with ‘Blake’s people’. With the pair tentatively reunited, an uneasy truce was holding, and still no one had decided quite what to do with Tarrant. Since no one trusted ‘Avon’s people’, nothing she had been able to say had worked in his favour, while Avon had taken the approach that Tarrant was safer where he was, for now. Dayna kept expressing a hope he would understand and commit to joining them; listening to her, it sounded to Soolin as though it was already too late. Whether Dayna realised it or not, the cause was drawing her away from him. Tarrant would soon find himself left behind.

Neither one of those options particularly appealed to Soolin either. Not her war and not her concern. Being shut out from the inner circle bothered her little. The time was coming when she would strike out on her own again, as she had always done. Vila had been a satisfactory companion in his own way, but the revelation of Jenna’s alleged betrayal and subsequent death had shaken him. He had crawled back into a bottle and remained there, wallowing in self-pity.

Soolin would have left him there but for his drunken ramblings. Wine was loosening his tongue in dangerous ways and he was muttering things that would not bear the hearing of a wider audience. Accordingly, she had locked him in his quarters and gone in search of the one person who could bring him back to his senses.

She knew where to find him: in the conference room, where the guard had eyed her hesitantly and then waved her through. Watching over Blake and his cronies as they discussed tactics, Avon had been banished to a far corner of the room, a tolerated, if resented, presence, with his ever-attendant guard ready to kill shoot him dead should any less generous feelings stir towards Blake. 

Soolin wondered why he put up with it. He used to have more self-respect.

As it was, she sidled up to him and lingered at his side. Avon’s eyes flickered her in direction, acknowledging her presence without engaging. She decided to take the initiative.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Blake is trying to decide how get himself killed,” Avon grunted in reply.

“Again?”

His answer came in stony silence. She inclined her head in his direction so his sentinel could not hear. 

“I need you.”

“That depends what you had in mind.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. “It’s Vila. He’s drunk. You should come.”

“I’ve seen Vila drunk before. The novelty wore off a long time ago.”

“Not like this.” The warning in her voice made him turn his head to look at her. “You really need to hear what he’s got to say.”

Her persuasion compelled him to take notice. Avon pushed himself off the wall and followed her, his ready assassin bringing up the rear. Several pairs of eyes watched their progress, although no one made an attempt to stop them. When they got to the door of Vila’s cabin, Soolin rounded on the guard.

“This is personal,” she said. “Stay out here.”

He had protested. “I have my orders–”

“I’m sure you do.” She smiled winningly at him. “But I need company and three’s a crowd.”

The guard took her meaning and positioned himself by the door. Inside, Vila was sprawled across the bed, a bottle clutched in the crook of his arm, snoring and murmuring to himself in his sleep. Soolin shook him roughly, eliciting a low moan.

“Leave me alone,” Vila whined, refusing to open his eyes.

“Wake up,” she said, slapping his uppermost cheek. “Avon’s here.”

One bleary eye opened and peered up at them. Vila grimaced. “Then I definitely don’t want to wake up.”

Soolin gave Avon an exasperated glance. “See if you have better luck.”

He was unmoved. “Why not take his advice? Leaving him is the best idea he’s had in a long time.” Under the weight of her glare, he finally relented. With a sigh, he sat down on the bed beside Vila and took him by the shoulder. 

“Get off!” Vila grumbled, trying to shake away the annoying hand on his back. “Can’t I be left alone?”

“No. Wake up.”

“Why?”

“You’re drunk.”

Vila opened his eyes and grinned stupidly at him. “That’s right. For the first time in a long time, I’m drunk. A happy drunk, that's me.” He put a finger to his lips. “But shush, don’t tell Soolin. Doesn’t like me when I’m drunk.”

“You brought me up here for this?” Avon snapped her.

She folded her arms. “Keep listening.”

“Soolin’s my only friend and if she knows, she won’t like me any more,” Vila was rambling on. “But that’s all right, because I’ve never had any friends. Everyone says they like me, but when it comes down to it, they don’t, not really.”

“Vila,” Avon said wearily.

“Jenna said she liked me. She didn’t, not really. She was pretending to like me, that’s not the same thing.” Vila’s rolling eyes came to rest on him. “You don’t like me. You’ve never liked me. I’ve never liked you either.”

He reached for the bottle. Avon plucked it out of his hand. “You’ve had enough.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Vila slurred. He snuggled down into his pillow and murmured his last words into the fabric. “I didn’t listen to Avon and I don’t listen to you.”

“What?” Avon rolled him back over. “Wake up, you fool!” Vila’s eyes blinked open. Avon slapped his face. “Say that again.”

“No!” Vila tried to fend him off. “You’re not Avon. Avon’s dead.”

“How?” He was getting rougher. Drunk though he was, Vila’s expression started to register fear. “How do you know!”

“Hand.” His gaze went to the fingers grasping his collar. “Avon’s hand was injured.”

Soolin watched as a slow, terrible realisation took shape on Avon’s face. Vila slumped back onto the pillows as he was released. Avon was transfixed, staring at his left hand, turning it to examine every last line and detail. Lost in that moment of pause, Soolin left him to make what he could of Vila’s revelation. She understood the implication; what it meant to Avon was going to determine his response. Better that he knew, she had decided when she had first heard what Vila had to say. Better the truth than to live a lie.

Avon got shakily to his feet, moving as though he had lost control of his limbs to some outside force that was trying to work them remotely without much success. The shock had set in. When Soolin called his name, his eyes were wide, looking right at her without seeing.

“Avon,” she repeated. “Is it true?”

“I don’t know.” The words caught in this throat. “But he’s right. When I left you, I was... incomplete.” 

He was staring at his hand again, reliving the memories of the recent past. Soolin remembered them too, of the sight of his broken body when they had dragged him off Gauda Prime and injected him with blood serum to keep him alive.

“I forgot.” Avon sounded hollow. “No, that’s not correct. They chose not to let me remember. Because...” He trailed into silence. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to speak. “Because they killed me and took my mind.”

The worse had passed. Something else had taken its place, birthed by the cold breath of the dead.

“Avon, for what it’s worth,” Soolin said quietly. “I’m sorry. If I had known–”

“You’d have shot me anyway.”

“No. I would have kept you alive.”

“All that’s left of Kerr Avon is a shadow,” he snarled. “There's irony for you.”

Soolin folded her arms. “What will you do?”

His eyes narrowed. “What I had always intended to do. I shall decide when this ends, not the Terra Nostra!”

* * * * * * *

“I need to talk with you.”

Blake turned at the sudden sound of the voice. He had heard the opening swish of the door and had expected Avalon. Constantly at his side these days, it was rare to get a moment to himself. Finding instead Avon with his guard in tow, he relaxed slightly. 

“All right.” 

Avon started towards him. The guard’s finger hovered over the trigger of his gun. Blake waved him away. Reluctantly, the guard retreated and the door closed. They were alone.

“Well?” Blake asked.

Avon paused by the table and stared down at the readouts that littered its surface. “What are your plans?”

Blake could not help smiling. Avon was, as always, blunt and straight to the point. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious.”

He shrugged and relented. “We’re at an impasse. If we go forward, we’re likely to be walking into a trap. We have backing. What we don’t have are the forces to back it up. The Federation saw to that.” He made a helpless gesture. “The other option is to starve them into submission. It isn’t going to win us any supporters on Earth. People will die.”

“That never bothered you before.”

“No.” Blake considered the saturnine man at his side. “Everyone tells me I shouldn’t trust you.”

A soft snort escaped him. “Choosing who to trust was never your strong point. You trusted Orac.”

“Is this where you tell me it wasn’t your fault?”

That finally got a reaction. Tired eyes raised to meet his. “Avon might, if you had had the chance to ask him.” A long breath escaped him. “As for me, I do not know.”

An odd response, Blake thought, for anyone who did not understand from where his doubts stemmed. 

“You too?”

He nodded. “Vila confirmed my suspicions. I am a gestalt of one man’s mind and the body of another. What I am not is Kerr Avon. I am his echo, diminished by degrees.”

“Jenna mentioned something of the sort. She also told me about the shadow.”

“Then you know my time is running out. I cannot wait for you to reach a decision.” Avon faced him. “Let me go to Earth.” Before Blake could object, he continued. “I don’t see who else you can send. I can get close to Servalan. Through her, I shall be able to gain access to Orac. It has to be me.”

“Assuming she lets you live.”

“I won’t need long.”

Blake shook his head. “The others will never agree. If anyone goes, it should be me. The Federation might be willing to negotiate.”

Avon’s silence was eloquent, making Blake glance in his direction.

“They will kill you,” he stated. “This rabble needs you.”

“Once perhaps,” Blake conceded. “The future belongs to the young like Dayna. They need to decide what form the new Federation takes.” He gave Avon a worn smile. “I can’t help thinking I have outlived my usefulness.”

“A quiet retirement might not be what they had in mind for you.”

“I shall do my best to disappoint them.” Blake scratched absently at the rough stubble of his chin as he gave Avon’s proposal thought. “Very well. I might be able to convince them. What’s in it for you?”

“An end,” Avon said flatly. “I need it to be finished.”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“The difference is that this time the ending must be final. I will not compromise on freedom.”

“You could live.”

“It’s too late for that. I can only live by my terms.”

“As you wish. I’ll see to the arrangements.”

He started away, only to hear Avon call his name. He paused and looked back.

“Before I do this,” Avon said, “promise me that you will not let them use the Lazarus Directive on me.”

“I know a few people who won’t have a problem with that.”

“I want your word. As I once gave you mine.” He was insistent. “When the time comes, if you are there, do not bring me back.”

“You’re asking me to kill you.”

“I’m asking you to do nothing. Let me die.”

So little to ask. It required no effort, only to stand by and let a life slip away. Because it was requested would not make it any easier. There would be no more talks like these, no brittle conversation, no irritating jibes, no cut and thrust to spur each other on. He had to keep reminding himself that the profound sense of loss that had suddenly hollowed out his insides belonged to another man. He told himself too that if what Avon said was true, then he had already lost him, a long time ago.

He kept telling himself this and more, and yet his brain refused to register it. All that was left was to honour a promise. So little to ask and yet so much. 

“Very well, Avon,” Blake said heavily. “If that’s what you want.”

He watched, tormented by the depths of regret, as Avon turned his back on him and headed for the door. He made no attempt to stop him. How could he when he had given him his word?


End file.
